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9 


FLEU RETTE 


THE HISTORY OF A FRENCH FLOWER-GIRL. 


AFTER 




EUGENE SCRIBE 


FRANK P. CLARK. 


c > 

$y 



New Yobk: 

JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY, 

14 & 16 Vesey Stbeet. 

a*. . 1 1 




COPYRIGHT, 1882, 
BY 


JOHN W. LOVELL CO 


FLEURETTE 


PART I. 

CHAPTER I. 

On a beautiful morning in October, 1858, the inhabitants 
of Paris who loved air and sunshine had come to seek them 
at the Tuilleries and the Champs Elysee. These were the 
only possible promenades for them. They had not then, as 
now, forests, meadows and fountains in the very heart of 
the city. The Hois de Boulogne had not, as yet, been 
transformed, as if by magic, into a Parisian park, a popular 
pleasure ground which equals in splendor and elegance the 
domains of kings. 

The principal avenue of the Champs Ely see was occupied 
by carriages and equestrians ; the walks were crowded with 
pedestrians, male and female, and all along the sides of the 
avenue several rows of chairs, exposed to the glare and 
dust, were ready to receive those who desired to rest. At 
intervals numerous groups had formed, a thousand dif- 
ferent conversations crossed one another. The Champs - 
Elysee had become a vast salon , shaded by trees, where 
Parisian babble replaced the chatterings of absent birds. 

Two young men descended from their horses, gave them 
to their grooms, and looked around for chairs in which to 
seat themselves. They advanced with heads erect, cigars 
in their mouths, satisfied with the fine weather, with the sun, 


4 


FLEURETTE. 


above all with themselves and the effect they produced. It 
was not their conversation, for they had not said a word ; 
they spoke not, neither did they think! — they smoked: but 
there was something in their figures, their attitudes, their 
least gestures that implied such good opinions of themselves 
that the clouds of smoke in the centre of which they ad- 
vanced seemed less puffs of tobacco than of incense which they 
sent up to themselves. 

They stopped at length near the rond-point , at a place 
where a group of ladies with their backs to the new arrivals 
already occupied a dozen chairs, leaving however several 
vacant. 

“ Ludovic ! ” cried one of the young men, “ I pitch my 
camp here.” 

“ Take care, Yicomte ! ” replied the other, in a low tone, 
at the same time casting a rapid glance over the group of 
ladies from among whom several dowagers arose ; “ you 
mistake ; these are ladies. Let us not stop.” 

“And why not, if you please, my son?” said, turning 
around, a lady of apparently fifty years, richly and elegantly 
dressed in irreproachable taste. 

“ My mother ! ” exclaimed Ludovic, little pleased at this 
unexpected encounter. 

“Madame Durussel,” said respectfully the vicomte, 
throwing away his cigar and saluting his friend’s mother 
and the ladies who surrounded her. 

Ludovic took in the situation at a glance. It was des- 
perate, and retreat impossible, so he decided to make the 
best of it, and advanced resolutely towards the feminine bat- 
talion, the chairs of which were formed in a half-moon, a 
circular line difficult to break through. He marched straight 
to the centre. Two chairs there remained vacant. He es- 
tablished himself under the very fire of the enemy, to use 
military parlance. The vicomte, appreciating the danger 
of his friend, came generously to his assistance. 

Madame Durussel, who occupied the extreme right of the 
line of battle, was a woman who had been very beautiful 
and very rich. She was still v ery rich. Her husband, an 
old jeweller, had gained by his trade an immense fortune, 
which he had left to his widow and to his only son 
Ludovic. 


FLEURETTE. 


5 


which he had left to his widow and to his only son Ludovic. 

The latter, brought up very strictly by his mother, had 
contracted the habit of obeying and fearing her, a habit 
which he had instinctively preserved. His first movement 
was one of submission, his second revolt. We have seen 
him influenced by the former. 

Madame Durussel, after the death of her husband, had 
continued his business, ennobling it. She would only sell 
to the Court, of which she was made jeweller. She passed 
her life in the great world. She had seen the carriages of 
sovereigns stationed at her door, and princesses seated in 
her salons. Since she had been called upon for wedding 
jewels by the courts of England and Russia she treated as 
between equals with the other crowned heads, and made 
cheap of the little princes of the German Confederation, or 
simple Italian Grand Dukes. 

One does not frequent such splendors with impunity, or 
mingle during thirty years, even indirectly, with the glories 
and vanities of this lower world without there being some 
traces of it. Madame Durussel had so often seen High- 
nesses and great ladies in private, she had conversed with 
them so familiarly, that it was difficult for her to persuade 
herself that she was not of the same society, the same world, 
almost the same rank. She did not consider herself a 
jeweller, but a speculator in the diamond courts. She had 
not shops, but salons. 

Having become almost too rich, she retired from busi- 
ness, selling her stock to her chief clerk, who, less vain, 
sold indiscriminately to the city and the court and marched, 
by a double road, to fortune. Madame Durussel, having 
no longer anything to do but dream, had at first formed 
ambitious plans for herself. A widow, she had desired to 
re-marry and become a great lady. 

But the name of Madame Durussel, court jeweller, was 
already too famous for a marriage with her to pass un- 
noticed, or for a marquis or a duke to espouse her incognito. 
Her renown itself interfered with her ambition. Love only 
could excuse such a folly, but at Madame Durussel’s age 
love is not kindled even at the fire of diamonds. 

Abandoning these ideas of nobility, the ambitious widow 
transferred them all to her son. She could not, indeed, 


6 


FLEUR ETTE. 


make him a nobleman, but she could, with her fortune 5 
secure his entrance into a great family. 

Ludovic, now of age, had no suspicion of the anxiety 
his mother gave herself on his account. In the first place, 
he had no thought of marriage. He found far too many 
charms in the life of a bachelor. He was neither very good 
nor very bad, neither a fool nor a genius, neither generous 
nor avaricious. He was a representative young man of the 
day : for him the club took the place of society, the cigar of 
conversation, and the fashionable or sporting journal which 
he glanced over in the morning supplied him with ideas for 
the day. 

He had studied ten years, and knew nothing — unless 
it was that he was rich, and that was sufficient for him. 
Already convinced by experience that wealth would secure 
him both consideration and friends, he took no pains to ac- 
quire them, they came of themselves. As to lofty senti- 
ments, and generous ideas — those iders, formerly met 
with in youth ; as to enthusiasm or exaltation of feeling, it 
was useless to ask them of him. Neither he nor his com- 
panions found any use for such things. They were not 
comprehended in the catalogue of the club. 

Madame Durussel had met at the springs of Vichy, 
where she had spent the last season, the Marquise de 
Keroualle, a name celebrated in Brittany. The Keroualles 
were of the oldest and most illustrious nobility of that 
country. They reckoned among their ancestors the famous 
duchess of Portsmouth, Mademoiselle de Keroualle, mis- 
tress of Charles II., King of England, and it was not she, of 
all their ancestors, of whom the Keroualles were least 
proud. They only saw, in her, an incontestable historical 
tact, an alliance with the Stuarts, a royal branch to add to 
their genealogical tree. 

Besides her nobility the dowager marquise de Keroualle 
had a handsome fortune, amounting to nearly a million. 
With that one is rich in Brittany, though not in Paris. 
First of all, this million was invested in land, which yielded, 
at most, an income of thirty six thousand francs, and then 
the marquise had three daughters — three daughters to 
marry and endow ! 

Madame Durussell had said to herself : 


FLEURETTE. 


7 


“ It will go hard if I don’t find a wife there for my son 
Ludovic.” J 

e Foiled in her matrimonial enterprises undertaken against 
princely domains and ducal mansions, she descended to 
marchionesses, and hoped to succeed. Here, indeed, there 
were chances for her. She found no difficulty in forming the 
acquaintance of this noble family. 

_ At Vichy, as at all such resorts, acquaintances are 
quickly formed. The habit of meeting every day at the 
baths, or on the promenade — idleness, inaction, ennui , 
readily bring about connections which are as readily forgot- 
ten, but which at first sight seem sometimes so cordial that 
one might take them for real friendships. It is all very 
simple ; during the twenty days which the season generally 
lasts everyone shows his best side. People have no time to 
develop any but their good qualities, there is no oppor- 
tunity to expose their defects. 

The Marquise de Keroualle and Madame Durussel had, 
therefore, come away mutually enchanted, promising, with- 
out fail, to see each other at Paris; and, an exception to the 
general rule, they had kept their word. 

The marquise, though as noble as it was possible to be — 
that is to say thoroughly despising the common herd, and 
above all things trade — since the death of her husband was 
confronted with the prospect of three daughters to marry, 
and had somewhat modified the strictness of her principles. 
The age, in her eyes, had sunk so low that despairing, for 
the future, of being able to elevate it to her own level, she 
had finally decided to descend a little to meet it. 

She saw so many mesallianett about her that to contract 
one with trade or finance did not shock her as it might have 
done formerly. Her heraldic conscience was ready to come 
to terms with Madame Durussels millions. There was in 
the veins of the Keroualles such an ocean of noble blood 
that a few waves from the Pactolus could not corrupt it. 

It should be mentioned that the three daughters, whose 
future awakened the maternal solicitude, were not goods of 
ready sale, and that their charms of face and character failed 
to supplement the eight or ten thousand livres of income 
which was all they could bring by way of dowry. 

Elodie, the eldest, was nineteen, with clear blue eyes, 


8 


FLEURETTE. 


pale lips and complexion, and hair of the lightest blonde 
imaginable. Her looks promised insipidity, and her conver- 
sation fulfilled the promise. 

Geraldine, the second, was unmistakably red-headed, but 
made up for this slight defect by the most pliant and con- 
ciliating temper. She always agreed with the last speaker. 
“ Very true” “ very just” “ certainly” were the only 
words ever heard from her mouth, and when she was silent 
she supplied her part of the conversation with an approba- 
tive pantomime. For the rest, she was a good girl, and the 
best of the family, 

Corentine, the third, much younger than her sisters, 
already gave promise of a spiteful and haughty disposition ; 
in other respects she was the gayest child one could possibly 
see. She was always laughing without knowing why. 

Finally, there was another inconvenience in connection 
with the Mesdemoiselles de Keroualle which every day 
threatened to increase, and already interfered somewhat with 
the plans of the marquise. 

A cousin of hers, of another branch of the Keroualles, 
had been left an orphan at the age of four, and moreover, 
in consequence of revolutionary misfortunes, was without 
patrimony. 

The Marquise de Keroualle, with the warm approval of 
all his connections, who found themselves relieved thereby, 
was moved to bring home the young cousin and rear her as 
his own child. But Clotilde, who for a long time had been 
only an insignificant little girl, was now fifteen, and already 
her beautiful black hair, her large dark eyes, so gentle and 
expressive, the elegance of her form, the charm of her whole 
person, formed a striking and dangerous contrast to the ap- 
pearance of her cousins. She already presented a type of 
beauty so perfect and regular, that, wherever she appeared 
there were eyes but for her. 

The marquise could not always however, leave her little 
cousin alone at the hotel with the domestics. It was neces- 
sary to take her out, which she did from time to time, but 
as seldom as possible. 

Clotilde, for instance, was excluded from all soirees and 
state ceremonials under the pretext that the family carriage, 
large as it was, would not hold five ladies in ball costume. 


FLEURETTE. 


9 


As to morning promenades it was different. At the risk of 
rumpling their dresses, people may crowd themselves a little ; 
and the marquise, with her two oldest daughters, installed 
herself at the back, while Corentine and Clotilde were seated 
gaily in front. 

And thus it happened that on this day, invited by a 
beautiful autumn sun, the Keroualle family found themselves 
in the Champs JElysee . Their ancient coach, with armorial 
panels, had met the elegant coupe of Madame Durussel. 
The ladies, after half an hours promenade, had quitted their 
carriages to seat themselves near the rond-point , along the 
avenue, into which ambuscade Ludovic and his friend, the 
Vicomte de Grancey, had just fallen, and from which there 
was now no decent retreat. 

“ Parbleu ! ” cried the vicomte, accepting boldly the 
situation and commencing the attack — “ a fine day ladies.” 

“ Very fine,” said Madame Durussel. 

“ Very fine,” said the Marquise. 

u Very fine,” repeated Elodie, with a melancholy air. 

“Very true,” echoed Geraldine, who had never contra- 
dicted anyone in her life. 

As to Corentine, she answered with a shout of laughter. 
Why ? — we have just said she never gave a reason to any- 
one else, any more than to herself, for her attacks of gaiety. 

I know not if the conversation, which began under such 
difficulty, would have been sustained in a manner equally 
piquante and interesting, had it not been all at once inter- 
rupted by a new arrival — a young girl, in a tattered linen 
dress, approached and stood near the vicomte’s chair. A 
Madras handkerchief, from which the colors had long since 
faded, enveloped in picturesque fashion, a mass of blonde 
hair, part of "which fell in curls upon the child’s half-naked 
shoulders. Her pale, gaunt face bore traces of misery and 
suffering, but the coverings to her feet constituted the 
most original portion of her toilet. One of her feet was 
shod in a lady’s boot, the other with a shoe fastened by a 
double string. This young girl had a mournful but re- 
signed air, and, in her eyes, the color of which it was diffi- 
cult to determine, shone resolution and intelligence. 

“ Go away ! ” said the vicomte, annoyed at seeing her 
near his chair. 


10 


FLEURETTE. 


“ Yes,” cried Ludovic, “ they should pot allow beggars 
in the centre allees .” 

“ I am no beggar ! ” said the young girl, raising her 
head proudly. 

“ What are you then ? ” demanded the vicomte. 

“ A marchande ,” she replied, as, reaching forward her 
right hand, which she had kept concealed behind her skirt, 
she showed three or four small bouquets of violets, more or 
less fresh, which she presented to the vicomte. 

He made a gesture of contempt. 

The young “ marchande ” then advanced towards Lu- 
dovic, presenting her flowers. 

“ Leave me ! ” said the young man, repulsing her with 
the tips of his gloved fingers; “first go and wash your 
hands, which are not in good condition.” 

The child made no answer, and even appeared not to 
hear, but the faint flush, which instantly suffused her pale 
cheeks, proved that the insult had reached her heart. She 
made a step towards the ladies, and offered them her bou- 
quets in silence. 

“Ho thanks,” said the marquise, with a severe air. 

“ Don’t disturb me,” said Madame Durussel. 

The young girl then turned toward the four young ladies, 
whom she passed in review in a single glance, and stopping 
before Clotilde she made a little courtesy of confidence, 
which seemed to say : “ you alone understand me.” 

She was not mistaken, Clotilde took a bouquet. 

“ Ah ! Clotilde ! ” cried Elodie, with disgust — “ can you 
think of it ? Those violets are horrid ! ” 

“Very true,” said Geraldine. 

Corentine laughed. 

“ And besides,” said the Marquise, “ look at the girl ; 
she is scarcely dressed.” 

“ An additional reason,” replied Clotilde ; “lam rich — 
you gave me my month’s allowance this morning. How 
much? she asked, turning with a pleasant look to the 
“ marchande .” 

“ What you please, mademoiselle.” 

“ That is not dear,” laughed Corentine. 

“Very true,” said Geraldine. 

“ Not at all,' ’ cried the vicomte, “ she is speculating on 
your generosity.” 


FLEURETTE. 


11 


“ Two sous,” said the young girl quickly. 

Clotilde took from her purse a small piece of silver and 
gave it to her. 

“ I have no change,” said the marchancle ,” with an em- 
barrassed look. 

“ Keep the whole,” answered Clotilde, then regarding 
her with interest, “ Plow old are you ? ” 

“Thirteen or fourteen, I believe, mademoiselle — I do 
not know exactly.” 

44 What is your father’s occupation ? ” 

44 I have lost him — my mother also.” 

44 What did they do ? ” 

“ I do not know, they came from Switzerland.” 

“ Then, of course, you’re called 4 Lisbeth,’ ” said Ludovic, 
laughing. 

“No, sir, my name is Marie.” 

“ Ah ! how common ! ” said the vicomte ; “ everybody 
bears that name. If I were you, in order to make a for- 
tune, I would change my name.” 

“ I ask nothing better, if anyone will give me another.” 
While thus speaking the large eyes of the young girl were 
turned on Clotilde. 

“Since you sell flowers,” said the latter, smiling, “ call 
yourself Fleur ette” 

“ Thanks, god-mother,” replied the child with an expres- 
sive look. 

“ She’s no fool,” said the marquise. 

“ There is often intelligence among these children of the 
common people,” remarked Madame Durussel, with a pat- 
ronising air. “ Have you no other occupation than this ? ” 

“No, madame.” 

“ And how does it suffice to procure your subsistence ? ” 

“ It doesn’t,” replied the child quietly ; “ the days I gain 
nothing I eat nothing.” 

At this moment the sun began to set, the air became 
very fresh, and the ladies hurriedly put on their wraps. 

“ And you,” said Corentine, laughing, to the flower-girl, 
with your torn linen gown — how do you feel?” 

“ I am cold, mademoiselle,” replied the girl with an in- 
different air. 

44 Where do you live ? ” inquired Clotilde in a whisper. 


12 


FLEURETTE . 


“ I don’t know — where I can. When the day is fine, like 
this , godmother,” and she passed the coin which Clotildc 
had given her through her fingers, “I lodge with Madame 
Beaurin.” 

“ Who is Madame Beaurin ? ” cried Ludovic. 

“ A portress who gives me soup in the evening, and a 
bed at night ; provided I bring her ten sous a day, but 
when I cannot — the door is closed.” 

Clotilde uttered an exclamation. 

“ And you sleep in the open air — without supper ? ” 

“In the spring that does very well, but autumn and 
winter come on — . If I had ouly something ahead — to 
establish myself with.” 

“ To buy stock with ? ” said Ludovic, with a laugh. 

“ Yes, sir, to buy and pay down for beautiful flowers, 
like these, but, living with difficulty from day to day, I 
can lay by nothing.” 

“And how much is needed to establish you?” asked 
Clotilde. 

“ A considerable sum, ten or a dozen francs, at least.” 

“ Here are twenty,” cried Clotilde, who had kept her 
purse in her hand — “ my month’s allowance.” 

“What are you doing there, mademoiselle?” exclaimed 
the marquise, in a severe tone. 

“ I wish it to be said, cousin, that I, who have never had 
a chance to establish myself, have once in my life contribu- 
ted to establish some one else” 

“ Do you not see that, to play on your feelings, you have 
been told the same story that is told to everybody ? ” 

“ And of which you are the dupe,” added the vicomte. 

“ And be sure not to boast of it, mademoiselle,” said 
Ludovic ; “ you would be laughed at.” 

Pending this discussion the little “ marchande ” had ap- 
proached Clotilde, and blushing, but without speaking a 
word, returned the gold pieces, which Clotilde pushed back 
vigorously. 

Elodie raised her eyes, Corentine broke into a laugh, and 
the marquise, with a frown at her daughters, said in an icy 
tone : 

“ Let us go, mesdemoiselles, the weather is uncertain, 
and it begins to grow cold.” 


FLEURETTE. 


13 


Ludovic, carrying his gallantry to the extreme, offered 
the marquise his arm, the vicomte did the same to Madame 
Durussell, the four young ladies walked, arm in arm, be- 
hind ; and thus the squadron took up the line of march for 
the carriages. Clotilde, who got into their coach last, 
turned for an instant and saw behind her Fleurette, who had 
followed. She carried to her lips the gold-piece which she 
owed to the generosity of her godmother. 


CHAPTER H. 

“ Say what they will,” murmured Clotilde, seating her- 
self in the front of the carriage — “ Say what they will, the 
gold piece I gave the flower-girl is money well placed.” 

“ Close the window,” said the marquise ; “we shall take 
cold.” 

In hastening to obey her cousin Clotilde again saw 
Fleurette, who had approached the carriage and was en- 
deavoring to catch sight of the crest on the panel. 

The coachman plied his whip and the horses started, 
Clotilde uttered a cry. 

Fleurette had barely missed being run over. 

Our heroine had drawn back just in time ; she had only 
escaped, by a few inches, being thrown down and run over 
by the wheels. 

Without reflecting on the danger she had run, Fleurette, 
who was not to be frightened at such a trifle, rushed after 
the carriage, which she followed for more than ten minutes. 
She hoped to overtake it, and know by the arms upon it, 
the name and family of her godmother. 

But her strength disappointed her courage ; panting, out 
of breath, with the energetic will that formed the basis of 
her character, with hair dishevelled, she continued her pur- 
suit, when fortune declared decisively against her and com- 
pelled her to halt. The strings which secured her shoe 
all at once broke, and it was impossible for her to continue 
barefooted, over the short pebbles, a race which had already 


14 


FLEURETTE . 


exhausted her. So she was forced to give up the attempt 
to discover who her young benefactress was, but she did 
not give up thinking of, and blessing her. 

From that day she invoked no other guardian angel, and 
to none other addressed — not her prayers — for Fleurette did 
not pray, but her souvenirs, her dreams, and her plans. A 
veritable bohemian ; no relative, no friend upon earth had 
ever yet extended her a hand ; and, without direction in 
her wandering life, she advanced at hazard, as likely to take 
the right as the wrong course. 

She walked along, singing, with a light and joyous step, 
contemplating her golden piece, which she could not cease 
admiring. She had never before possessed such a treasure ; 
surely it must be inexhaustible ; and, like Perette in the 
fable of the milk-pail , she built on her gold piece a series of 
castles in the air, each more splendid than the rest. 

First of all, she would buy at a bargain a suitable dress 
and bonnet, and especially shoes, with which she might pre- 
sent herself in good society, that is to say before the en- 
trance to the Opera or the Theatre Italien from which the 
police had always hitherto sent her away. She would pur- 
chase in the morning, of a flower-gardener in a distant fau- 
bourg, beautiful bouquets suitable to the season, for which 
she would pay cash and therefore get much cheaper, and 
which she would sell again in the evening for the best price 
she could get. 

She would speculate on a small quantity at first ; then, 
by degrees, she would extend her trade, and build up a cus- 
tom. Then, after some years of economy, she would take 
a small shop on the boulevard. A secret instinct told her 
that she would one day be handsome, that she would have 
business tact, and would make a pretty and clever flower- 
merchant, whose shop would be much frequented by great 
ladies, and especially by young gentlemen. 

While thus dreaming, she had gone down the avenue of 
the Champs Elysees, turned to the left, traversed theme du 
Faubourg , Saint Honor e, and entered the rue de la Pepi- 
niere , which she followed throughout its length. Having 
reached its junction with the rue du Pocher , the rue Saint 
Lazar e, and the rue de V Arcade, she saw a crowd of 
people. 


FLEUR ETTE . 


15 


A boy sixteen or seventeen years old, whom one would 
hardly have taken for more than twelve, so thin and puny 
did he appear, going along with his nose in the air, or star- 
ing at the passers-by, had stepped in a hole left by a missing 
flag-stone and fallen down. His fall had been more noisy 
than dangerous. By his box, in which had been several 
panes of glass, it was easy to be seen that he was a glaziers 
apprentice. The crash of the breaking glass had attracted 
the attention of those passing, and the jingle of the scat- 
tered fragments which surrounded the poor fellow, at first 
excited apprehensions that he might be injured. So they 
hastened to help him up. No people are naturally more 
obliging than the Parisians. 

But when it was discovered that he had not received 
even a scratch, and that it was only a matter of some broken 
glass, every one went his way, thinking only of his own 
affairs ; and several of those Parisian youngsters who seem, 
at every accident, to spring up as if from the ground, and 
who, in every catastrophe, see only a subject for jest, went 
away laughing and saluting the young glazier as a member 
of the Court of Cassation .* 

Fleurette arrived just as the poor bov had gotten upon 
his feet. Standing alone, in the midst of the ruin, he con- 
templated his misfortune, but not with dry eyes, for he had 
begun to weep. Fleurette ran to him. 

“ What is the matter ? — are you hurt? ” 

“ I do not know ; I believe I am.” 

“ Pshaw ! — that is nothing to cry for.” 

“ But I was carrying some goods, and on returning to 
the shop I am sure to be beaten.” 

“What does it signify!” replied Fleurette in a hardy 
tone ; “ people are beaten without crying.” 

The boy wiped his eyes, and, looking at her with a timid 
glance, as if ashamed of his weakness in the presence of one 
of such masculine courage, and seeking to excuse himself, 
he stammered : 

“ My master, who is strong, and big, and brutal, will re- 
quire me to pay, and, as I am not able, he will first beat me 
and then turn me out of doors, and then I don’t know what 
will become of me.” 

* A play on the word “ ca»sor,” to break.” 


16 


FLEURETTE . 


« You have never, then, slept under a gate? ” 

« No.” 

“Nor in the open street ? ” 

“ Never.” 

“ I imagine, then, that the idea frightens you.” 

“ I well believe it — without considering that I came out 
without my dinner, and that he will send me away without 
supper — I may count on that.” 

And the boy again began to weep. 

“ Be silent,” said Fleurette, in a tone of authority — “ it 
makes me sick to see a man cry. How much do you earn a 
day?” 

“ Nothing, as yet. I was finishing my apprenticeship. 
It is only at the end of the month that I am to begin to earn 
wages.” 

“And what was the value of the goods you had there?” 

“ They were large window-panes, though they don’t look 
it now,” he said, casting a despairing look at the fragments 
scattered around him ; “ there were six or seven francs* 
worth of them.” 

“ As much as that ! ” cried Fleurette, handling her gold- 
piece. 

Her first impulse, one generous and charitable, which 
had prompted her to ask this question, was suddenly checked 
by the magnitude of the sum, which disarranged all her 
plans and combinations. However, remembering how very 
happy the unexpected generosity of her godmother had re- 
cently made her, she took the gold-piece from her pocket, 
impressed by I know not what secret presentiment that the 
pleasure which she had just experienced, in receiving, might 
oe surpassed by one still sweeter, that of giving. 

“ Let us understand one another,” she said, for Fleurette 
was a girl who had a good head as well as a good heart, and 
who to mother-wit added a capacity for business ; “ if one 
lent you six francs, would you repay them ? ” 

“ Lend six francs to me ! — who would venture to do 
that ? ” 

“ But if there are bold people who are not afraid, would 
you repay them ? ” 

“ There are few chances of it,” he answered artlessly ; 
“but”— 


FLEURETTE. 


17 


“ But there are chances ; in the first place, your honesty.” 

“ Oh ! yes — and then,” he added earnestly, “ my grati- 
tude.” 

“That is already something. Well,” said Fleurette, as 
if she had just come to a decision, “I will lend you six 
francs.” 

“You!” exclaimed the boy, regarding her with an in- 
credulous air — “you are not even as well dressed as I am.” 

“ It is not always safe to judge by appearances,” an- 
swered Fleurette sententiously. “Pick up these fragments, 
there may be those who will find use for them, and wait for 
me.” 


A few steps away, in the rue de V Arcade, was an open 



on the counter said : 

“ Madame, can you give me change ? ” 

The woman looked at her curiously. 

“ Do you think I have stolen it ? ” said the girl, lifting 
her head proudly. 

“No, but I am surprised — ” 

“ At my offering a gold piece to be changed ?* 

“ Yes.” 

“ Ah ! if I could, I should keep it always, for it must 
bring good luck. In receiving it from the handsome young 
lady who gave it, I vowed to myself to employ it well — 
and I begin. Stay,” she said to the boy who remained at 
the door, not presuming to enter, “ what is your name ?” 

“ Etienne.” 

“ There is what will prevent your being beaten and 
driven away ; ” and she put the six francs in his hand. 

While he remained stupefied, looking at the money and 
scarcely believing it real, Fleurette carefully gathered up the 
rest of her change, not forgetting to thank the shop-woman, 
who locked the gold piece in her drawer, and saying, as she 
saw it disappear ! 

“Madame, I beg of you to put that in a corner by itself.” 

“Why?” 

“ If I am ever rich, I shall come to reclaim it.” 

The young woman looked at the poor child, and replied 
with a smile ! 


2 


18 


FLEURETTE. 


“ I promise it.” 

And Fleurette, happy at haying left her gold piece where 
she was certain of one day finding it again, left the shop, 
her heart filled with a joy hitherto unknown — that of 
haying rendered a service. 

She walked along the street by the side of her young 
protege, who looked upon her with a gratitude bordering on 
.respect. 

Fleurette was the first to speak. 

“ Who is your master ? ” 

“ M. Dufour, glazier, near the barrier e Blanche .” 

“ That is my quarter — when I have one. Madame 
Beaurin, my portress, lives in the rue de Navarin. And 
your father and mother, what is their employment?” 

“ They have none. They are dead. We are orphans, 
my sister Michelette and I. Fortunately the ladies of the 
Soeiety for indoor relief of the second district discovered 
us in the garret in which we were dying of hunger ; and 
then we were apprenticed for two years, I to M. Dufour, 
master glazier, and Michelette to an artificial flower-maker.” 

“ And you work ? ” 

“ All the week, and Michelette, too, Heavens ! how 
tiresome it is to work ! So that when I am sent out for an 
hour on business, as to-day, I stay two.” 

“ You see that brings misfortune.” 

“ Possibly ; but to be idle, and take the air, is to do as 
rich people do, and is so amusing.” 

“ Not always, especially when it rains, I have often re- 
gretted not having the shelter of a shop, like you.” 

“ What are you then ? ” 

“An out-door flower-girl.” 

“And your name?” 

“ Fleurette.” 

“ A funny name.” 

“ It’s a new name. I received it today, and I shall 
never have any other, for my godmother’s sake.” 

“You have been baptized, then?” 

“Just now, out of doors — always out of doors ! ” 

“ How curious ! Then you are like my sister and me, 
you have never known your parents.” 

“ Yes indeed ! I remember them — they were peasants. 


FLEURETTE. 


19 

We lived in a cottage of pine boards in a country called 
Switzerland, where it was very cold. There was a great 
mountain all covered with snow which I used to run over ; 
and then there were clusters of beautiful red flowers which 
I gathered, and every day I made bouquets and crowns of 
them , and it is from that that I love flowers so much.” 

“ And that is why you took to this business ? ” 

“Yes, later, for my father and mother came to Paris, 
for what reason I cannot tell, probably to hire themselves 
as porters^or rather as suisses , as they are called.” 

“ And they brought you with them ? ” 

“ Of course ; I must have been then seven or eight years 
old ; and all at once I saw no more of them, and found my- 
self in a porter’s lodge with Madame Beaurin, who beat me ; 
but I did not cry,” she added, with a glance at Etienne. 
“ She beat me whenever I failed to bring her ten sous, and 
turned me out of doors. I have passed bad days and worse 
nights ; but now that I am rich Madame Beaurin will make 
no difficulty in receiving me.” 

Conversing thus Fleurette and her new friend reached 
the last third of the rue Saint Lazare ; then turning to the 
left they began to ascend the rue Blanche . At the head of 
the rue Boursault Fleurette stopped. 

“ Let us part here,” she said. “ That is my way,” 
pointing to the right ; “ continue your own. Besides the 
night is coming on, and I am not expected at Madame 
Beaurin’s.” 

“ Madame Beaurin, portress, rue de JSTavarin ,” repeated 
Etienne, by way of fixing it in his memory ; “ I shall go 
and see you, Fleurette.” 

“I am seldom at home, but come all the same, you shall 
give me the address of your sister, Michelette. Meanwhile 
courage and industry ! ” 

“ I make no promises — but one can try.” 

“ If it be only to pay your debts. Remember you owe me.” 

“ True, Fleurette ; that alone shall hinder me from 
idling and wasting my time, for you are a brave girl — and 
if you ever need anyone to defend you you may always 
count upon me.” 

“ Thanks !— I shall endeavor to defend myself without 
calling on you,” 


20 


FLEURETTE. 


“ Why ? ” 

“ Because I am stronger than you.” 

“ Don’t believe it. I’m as strong as a lion when I’m 
angry.” 

“ In your business one should never get angry.” 

“How so?” 

Because it is a trade too liable to accident, and he who 
breaks glass must pay for it. Good luck ! May we be well 
received — you by M. Dufour, and I by Madame Beaurin ! ” 

They went their several ways, but not without several 
times turning for another good-bye. 


CHAPTER III. 

The house of which Madame Beaurin was portress, or 
rather proprietor (for she had a way of levying contribu- 
tions on her lodgers, and in one way or another knew how 
to make them pay tribute) — this house, newly built, had 
a five-story front on the street. The rear, reserved for 
future improvements, consisted of a garden, small and 
damp, serving meanwhile as a court, and containing but a 
single structure, a small coach-house'or wooden shed, which 
madame Beaurin used as a storehouse for old lumber. 

Some old rabbit-skins hung from a nail ; below were a 
broken straw bottomed chair and a rickety stove ; further 
on, old rags and old papers of every description ; a broom- 
handle and a pair of broken tongs ; fragments of plates, 
bits of broken bottles, and at the back, in the place of honor 
was piled the porter’s fire-wood. 

There madame Beaurin had kept her dog Azor, recently 
lost ; and there all the cats in the house and in the neigh- 
borhood made their nightly rendez-vous. 

Madame Beaurin, who had never been amiable, even in 
her youth, was now sixty ; and every year might be said to 
have added another blemish or disagreeable feature to her 


FLEURETTE. 


21 


character as it did another wrinkle to her face. Time, 
which destroys all, had only augmented her distinguishing 
characteristics — avarice, greed, and above all a vicious 
temper. 

“ Ah ! ” she cried, as she saw, by the light of her lamp, 
Fleurette present herself at the door of the lodge ; “ so it’s 
you, idler and vagabond ! It’s a long time since you have 
shown yourself ! ” 

“ A fortnight, mother Beaurin 1 had nothing to pay 

for food and lodging; so, knowing you, I did not come.” 

“You did well.” 

“ I didn’t want to give you the trouble of turning me 

out.” 

“ As much as to say that you have the means of paying 
to-day.” 

“ Yes, mother Beaurin,” replied Fleurette proudly. 

“ And you believe I’ll receive you ? ” 

“I hope so.” 

“ Undeceive yourself, then ; within a fortnight, since the 
beginning of the October term, the old lodgers have left and 
new ones have come, all rich, respectable people. I saw it 
by the gratuities they gave. That betokens a permanent , 
and puts him on a footing which it is necessary to main- 
tain. So M. Ducresson, the proprietor, has ordered me to 
be strict in the management of the house, and we do not 
desire to admit transient and doubtful people.” 

“ What do you mean by that?” 

“ That I do not wish to let by the day, as formerly ; it 
must be for a month, or at least for a week.” 

“If that is all,” returned Fleurette with a look of of- 
fended dignity, “ don’t trouble yourself.” 

“ But I must trouble myself, in these short rentings, to 
demand pay in advance, and eight days at fifty centimes , 
per day, come to four francs.” 

Fleurette’s only answer was to throw that amount on 
the table. 

Madame Beaurin was amazed, but, recovering from her 
surprise, exclaimed : “ It seems that within a fortnight we 
have become a millionaire.”, 

“ So you say,” coldly replied Fleurette. “ Have the 
soup served, then, but try to have it a little better and 


FLEURETTE. 


richer than before ; otherwise I shall be obliged to find 
other quarters at the end of the month.” 

The surprise of the portress was at its height. But as in- 
solence had much more effect upon her than civil treatment, 
she regarded Fleurette with a sort of deference. Then 
pushing forward a stool, a thing she had never done before, 

“ Seat yourself,” she said. 

Fleurette didn’t wait to be pressed, without ceremony 
she took the proffered seat, of which her wearied limbs felt 
sorely in need. 

“ And might one know how this sudden fortune came ? ” 

“ No,” answered the young girl dryly. 

“It is a secret, then — a mystery?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ And so,” continued the portress in a wheedling tone, 
“ you are unwilling to trust this secret to mamma Beaurin, 
the benefactress who has been a mother to you since the 
death of your parents, who were in the same business as 
herself?” 

Fleurette remained silent. Then, pointing her finger at 
the pot before the fire, whence came a pleasant murmur 
and an exhilarating odor, she said, with a fine-lady air which 
would have done no discredit to her god-mother : 

“ Serve up — I am hungry.” 

Madame Beaurin, more and more subdued, hastened to 
obey ; and during the whole supper, which was not, indeed 
very long, she left no means untried to draw from Fleurette 
her story and the cause of her good fortune ; but the latter 
understood that her silence was a species of punishment, 
and took good care not to satisfy the curiosity of madame 
Beaurin. 

Some moments after, Fleurette retired to her apartment 
that is to say to the humble dog-hole we have described, and 
which was situated in the dampest part of the garden. It 
leaned against the right wing of the house. A gutter 
spout emptied upon the roof, from which several tiles were 
missing. The walls, the planks of which were disjointed, 
permitted glimpses to be caught of the moon, which was 
shining brightly, but at the same time afforded ingress to a 
draught of air not very agreeable in the middle of October. 

But that did not hinder Fleurette from sleeping soundly 


FLEURETTE . 


on her coarse couch of straw, two feet wide by four long, 
which occupied one of the sides of the hovel. Her slumber 
was disturbed neither by the wind nor the noise, nor by the 
complaints of the preceding lodgers, who, indignant at 
finding their quarters occupied, vented their rage in pro- 
longed and furious mewings , with which the whole quarter 
resounded. 

Fleurette did not wake till daylight. No sound was yet 
heard in the house, and the general stillness invited reflec- 
tion. Her first thought was of her godmother, her second 
for herself. She carefully scrutinzed her position, which 
was far from being as promising as it had at first appeared. 

She was, it was true, assured of food and lodging for 
eight days. But an examination of her finances disclosed 
that she had left to set her up in business only ten francs. 
This was her entire available capital, for it was needless to 
count on returns so uncertain as those from the house of 
Etienne & Co. 

Ten francs ! — without a doubt it was more than she had 
ever had before ; but comparing capital with expenses, she 
found it impossible to balance her budget. First, she had 
to consider the matter of dressing herself, and then the ex- 
pense of starting in business. She must buy either a pan- 
nier or a basket — a sort of portable shop with which it 
would be impossible to dispense. Then she must lay in a 
sufficient amount of suitable stock to furnish her shop, and 
draw the attention of customers. 

It was folly to think of obtaining credit. What security 
could she offer ? What confidence could she inspire ? 

“Oh! my godmother!” she said, joining her hands, 
“ come to my aid ! If you hear me, if you grant my prayer, 
I shall be a brave girl, I shall conduct myself well, and you 
shall never repent having given me your protection ! ” 

Having finished this inward prayer, though it was hardly 
six o'clock, she rose from her bed. No one else in the 
house, not even the portress, was yet awake. All the win- 
dows and blinds were closed. She took a few steps in the 
garden, still thinking of her godmother. All at once, and 
in spite of the thick autumn fog which surrounded her, she 
saw something white at her feet, and stooping she picked 
up a superb bouquet. 


24 


FLEURETTE. 


Three white camelias stood out from a compact mass of 
Parma violets, and a circle of heather surrounded the whole 
in a manner at once neat and elegant. 

We have already said that Fleurette was without faith 
or religious sentiment. Who was there to instil, or whence 
was she to imbibe, such sentiment ? Everything about her 
that met her eyes, or her ears, tended rather to lower than 
to elevate, to corrupt rather than enlighten her mind. But, 
under the circumstances, an occurence so unforeseen, and 
which seemed a sudden answer to the vow she had taken, 
presented the appearence of something supernatural and 
miraculous, which might well awaken her heart and especially 
her imagination. Whence had come this bouquet ? — who 
had sent it ? — who in the world was there to feel an inter- 
est in her, if it was not her godmother ? 

By a quick and almost involuntary movement she 
raised the bouquet to her lips. It was moist from the 
night-dew and the fog which had preserved its freshness. 
Inspecting it closely it was easy to see that the flowers 
which composed it had not just been gathered. No differ- 
ence — Fleurette found them magnificent, and of a value 
much higher than any she would have been able to purchase 
to commence her business. 

She returned to her hovel, leaving the door open to 
admit the light, and, gently unwinding the thread that tied 
the immense bouquet, she divided it, and made a dozen 
small bouquets of the violets, then a thirteenth composed 
of the three beautiful camelias alone. She bound them to- 
gether with the thread which she had wound into a ball, 
and which she cut with her teeth for the want of scissors. 
She had no basket in which to carry her goods, but she 
wrapped them in her handkerchief, and, with bare head, 
and her beautiful hair falling on her shoulders, without say- 
ing “ good morning” or “goodbye” to madame Beaurin, 
who was making coffee in her lodge, she rushed through 
the carriage-gate which was just then opened. 


FLEURETTE . 


25 


CHAPTER IV. 

Joyous, full of hope, and like the Grecian sage, who 
carried all his possessions with him, Fleurette walked con- 
fidently, under the protection, as she believed, of her 
godmother, and certain of meeting fortune in the end. We 
have seen, in our time, more than one millionaire make the 
same beginning. 

In leaving the rue de Mavarin Fleurette hesitated 
whether to turn to the right or to the left. Often a whole 
future depends on the first step. 

She turned to the right, went down la place Breda , and 
entered the rice Babruyere , meeting only business people 
who cared little for bouquets. She reached the rue de la 
Rochefoucauld, at the beginning of its descent, here very 
sudden, and the street seemed to her deserted. 

She was mistaken, however. There was one person, a 
young man, walking first rapidly, then slowly, and then 
turning back. He was evidently promenading. 

Fleurette passed close to him, but he did not see her. 
He looked at his watch, his countenance betraying at the 
same time impatience and emotion. Then from the eleva- 
ted portion of the street, from which he had been careful 
not to go far, his eye glanced in the direction of the rue 
Saint Bazare, but, like sister Ann, he saw no one coming. 
There was nobody in the street but himself and Fleurette. 

The latter approaching and observing the agitation and 
disquiet imprinted on his features, addressed him in her 
gentlest tone : 

“ Monsieur, do you wish some beautiful violets ? ” 

The young man at first repulsed her impatiently ; then, 
reconsidering, he replied : 

“ Stay, come back, little one — come here.” 

Probably he thought with Figaro, or the Count Alma- 
viva, that two people talking excite less attention than a 
single person promenading. 

Fleurette opened her handkerchief from which was ex- 
haled a delicate perfume. 


26 


FLEURETTE. 


“ See, monsieur, what fragrance ! — how beautiful and 
fresh they are ! Be my first customer. See what a charm- 
ing bouquet ! ” 

He took and attached it to his button-hole, without 
thinking much of what lie did. Then with an absent air he 
opened his porte-monnaie and took out some silver pieces. 

At the same instant he saw a young lady advancing 
from the Saint Lazare and ascending the rue de La Roche- 
foucauld. Her step was light and uncertain. A black veil 
concealed her face, and from time to time she looked about 
with an uneasy air. 

“ There ! ” cried the young man, throwing the money in 
his hand into Fleurette’s handkerchief, “ go ! ” — and he 
ran rapidly down the street to meet the lady. 

Fleurette, left alone, looked into her handkerchief. 
There were two one-franc pieces, and three of ten sous. 

“Not a bad price for a bouquet of violets !” she said. 
“ The day begins well ! ” 

She went down the street meeting her customer a mo- 
ment afterwards, to whom she made her best courtesy. He 
had his bouquet in his button-hole and gave his arm to a 
young and pretty little blonde, whom he appeared to be 
reassuring, and who leaned upon his arm trembling violently. 

As to the young man, his air of disquiet and concern had 
been succeeded by one of joy and triumph incomprensible 
to Fleurette, and of which she made no effort to divine the 
cause. She was too happy herself. 

She entered a bakers and bought a penny loaf, thinking 
her late good fortune warranted indulging in the luxury of 
a breakfast, which was something new. She continued her 
walk, and just as she entered the rue Saint Georges she 
heard two men ahead of her talking earnestly as they went 
along. 

“ It’s too risky,” said one. 

“ But it’s magnificent,” replied the other, “ if we have 
only a rise of ten centimes to-day.” 

“ Beautiful violet bouquets, gentlemen ! ” interrupted 
Fleurette. 

“ And we can sell again to-morrow, and realize an im- 
mense profit,” continued the man from ’change, without 
hearing her. 


FLEURETTE. 2 ' 

“ And who says there will be a rise ? ” said the more 
timid speculator., 

“ I’m sure of it ! ” replied the bolder one. 

“ Buy my violets,” persisted the girl, placing herself 
before the two, “It will bring you luck.” 

“ Do you think so ? ” said one of the men. 

“ I’ll answer for it,” she returned with confidence. 

All gamblers are superstitious. He took the bouquet, 
threw the girl twenty sous, and hurried rapidly in the di- 
rection of the exchange. 

Fleurette, delighted with her new transaction, followed 
him at a distance with her eyes, and continued her course 
along the rue Lqfitte , stopping near the boulevard before a 
handsome shop full of rare and costly hot-house flowers. 

“ Ah ! ” she exclaimed, looking through the window at 
M. Rymbaud enthroned in his office — “ if I could only gain 
enough to hire a shop like that ! — if I should one day get to 
be a wholesale florist ! Bah ! ” she added with a smile in 
which shone a whole fortune of hope, “ who knows? — with 
the help of my godmother everything is possible ! ” 

While speaking she saw displayed in elegant cases some 
camelias not any more beautiful than her own ; and, 
as she possessed the instinct of business, the thought of a 
speculation for the first time came into her mind. 

She entered the shop, and presenting her three white 
camelias said to the proprietor : 

“ How much will you give me for them ? ” 

“ Thirty sous for the three,” he answered. 

“ It’s not enough.” rejflied Fleurette boldly. 

“ Well, to you, and because you seem bright and pretty, 
I’ll give forty.” 

“ Fleurette was reaching out her hand for the money, 
when an elegant looking young man entered, who, judging 
from the consideration with which he was received, ap- 
peared to be a distinguished customer. 

“ I want a bouquet for this evening.” 

“ Select one, monsieur le comte .” 

“ How much is it ? ” he answered, pointing with his cane 
to a white camelia surrounded by violets. 

“ The usual price.” 

“ Twenty francs ? ” 


28 


FLEURETTE. 


The florist nodded. 

Very well. Put it in my account, and send it before 
seven o’clock to mademoiselle Rosine — you know.” 

“Yes , monsieur le comte.” 

The young man re-entered his carriage, the florist salut- 
ing resjDectfully. The latter then turned to Fleurette, 

“Let us finish our affair,” he said — “the three flowers 
for forty sous. 

“ A piece,” replied Fleurette — “ that comes to six francs.” 

“ What is it you say ? ” 

“You have just sold for twenty francs a bouquet con- 
taining a single camelia neither finer nor fresher than these.” 

“ But a dealer must have his profit.” 

“lama dealer also, and if you wish us to do business to- 
gether you must show a little more conscience.” 

The florist regarded her with an astonished look, and 
said : 

“ She’s sharp, and understands herself ! If you were a 
little better dressed,” he added, looking at her tattered 
gown and naked feet, “ I might take you to help in the 
shop.” 

Not in the least abashed by so brilliant an offer, Fleurette 
coolly answered : 

“ I shall think of it, but in the first place pay me.” 

“ The devil ! ” he said, handing her the money — “ then 
you prefer sticking to your rags ? ” 

“ Not that, but to my liberty,” she answered, thinking of 
Etienne ; “ I do not wish to obey or be a servant to anyone.” 

And delighted with the excellent bargain she had made 
she hurried out. 

The street was crowded with carriages. Fleurette in- 
quired the cause of an errand-porter, who answered that 
they were celebrating a great marriage at Notre dame de 
Lorette. Fleurette neglected nothing. She knew there 
might be opportunities there of profitably disposing of her 
buquets. Hurrying thither, she arrived just as the ceremony 
ended. 

The bride and groom, surrounded by their friends, had 
just come out of the church, and were waiting in the vesti- 
bule the approach of their carriage, which some' servants in 
livery had gone to bring. 


FLEURETTE. 


29 


The police kept back the crowd ; but eluding their vigil- 
ance, and at the risk of being crushed, Fleurette glided be- 
tween the carriages and horses, and made her way with so 
much courage and good fortune, that she found herself 
close to the carriage of the new married couple at the mo- 
ment they were entering it.” 

A police sergeant pushed her back, saying ; 

“ What are you doing there ? ” 

“My compliments to the bride,” she answered making a 
little courtesy, “ and my marriage present,” she added, 
throwing a bouquet of violets into the carriage. 

It was done so prettily and gracefully that the young 
lady cried : 

“ I, too, wish to make my present.” But in her grand 
wedding costume, she had no money about her. Her hus- 
band opened his purse, from which she took a five franc 
piece and threw it to the flower-girl. 

“ Thanks, madame,” she cried ; “ it will bring you luck.” 

“With a glad heart she added this unexpected treasure 
to that which she possessed already ; and as property ren- 
dered her neither giddy nor forgetful she did not leave the 
church steps till the whole wedding party had entered their 
carriages and departed. 

She managed to sell three or four more bouquets, but 
at the usual price. The extraordinary demand had ceased, 
and violets, which had gone up temporarily, fell back to the 
normal figure. 

She retured toward the boulevard, crossed it, and ven- 
tured into the rue Richelieu. 

On reaching the corner of the rue de la Bourse she saw 
in the middle of a group of talkers a man with an animated 
countenance and a loud voice, who had the proud and im- 
portant look which accompanies good fortune. Fleurette 
recognized him as one of the two speculators she had met 
that morning in the rue Saint Georges ; and guessed with- 
out difficulty that he had succeeded in the hazardous stroke 
which he had meditated. 

“Well!” said she, pulling the skirt of his coat, and 
placing herself boldly before him — “ well, what did I tell 
you ? ” 

“ True enough ! ” he answered, with the loud laugh of a 


30 


FLEUR ETTE. 


millionaire, “the bohemienne was right. She has proved a 
true prophetess. A rise of fifteen centimes — it’s a fortune ! ” 

“ Then divide between us,” said Fleurette gayly. 

“No,” returned the speculator; “it’s a fortune not yet 
realized, and which to-morrow I may lose. No matter, I 
wish the day, for you, to be a happy one.” 

He slipped into her hand a ten-franc piece. 

“The day is, indeed, happy!” cried Fleurette, whose 
heart leaped with joy, and with an effusion of gratitude she 
munnered to herself : 

“ Thanks, my godmother ! ” 

She had still some bouquets left, and did not wish to go 
home without selling them. It was now night, and at the 
entrances of the Vaudeville and the Varieties she disposed 
of the last. 

Having received her money and finished her day she 
turned toward the rue de Navarin , taking, in her way, the 
rue du Faubourg Montmartre. 

Her good fortune had so surpassed her hopes that she 
felt privileged to depart somewhat from her ideas of rigid 
economy, and think a little of her comfort. Her naked 
feet, especially, needed shoes. In her active, out-door life 
they were not a superfluity, but things of the very first 
necessity. 

She bought a pair of strong shoes, and a ready-made 
gown of durable and simple stuff. The only luxury she 
allowed herself was a little bonnet of dark linen, with blue 
ribbons, which gave her a jaunty and original air. 

Madame Beaurin almost dropped to the ground at the 
sight of her lodger’s new apparel. But, true to her habit 
of caution, Fleurette said nothing of her new stroke of 
fortune. Hurrying through her supper, which was exactly 
like the last, she retired to her quarters under the pretext of 
wanting sleep. 

But she did not sleep. She passed in review all the 
events of the day, and took an exact account of her 
gains. 

She could neither read nor write ; but she could reckon 
in her head, and it stood her in good part, for in the place 
which served her both Tor chamber and office there was 
neither pen, ink, paper, nor light. 


FLEURETTE. 31 

No difference — all the same she made out her account 
of receipts and expenses as follows. 

Francs. Centimes. 

Remaining of her godmother’s bounty. . . .10 

Received of the lover in the rue de La 

Lochfoucauld. ...... 3 60 

From the speculator before going on ’change. 1 

From M. Rymband, the florist. . . . 6 

From the young bride. .... 5 

From the speculator returned from ’change 10 

For eight bouquets, at 10 centimes. • . 80 

Total ... 36. 30 

From which, unfortunately, she had been compelled to 
take the enormous amount of twenty-two francs for shoes, 
clothes, and bonnet. So Fleurette had left the clear bal- 
ance of fourteen francs, all her own. In her eyes it was a 
splendid capital, and never, in all her knowledge, had a 
business establishment been opened under more favorable 
auspices. 

She decided to invest this money, or part of it, in the 
purchase of a fresh stock to-morrow. Waking at the break 
of day, and opening her door, what was her astonishment, 
on stepping into the garden, to see lying on the ground an- 
other bouquet as beautiful as that of yesterday ; and 
several morning in succession the same surprise awaited 
her. 

Fleurette, we have said, was completely ignorant ; and, 
with her, gratitude gave birth to superstition. She was 
firmly persuaded that every morning the gift fell from 
heaven, like the dew, through the intercession of her god- 
mother. 

The second day, it is true, and those following, were 
not as profitable as the first. Nothing extraordinary oc- 
curred to raise the price of violets ; but the three camelias 
which M. Rymbaud bought of her every morning,- though 
at a reduced price, together with the sale of her bouquets; 
made her receipts average seven or eight francs a day. 


82 


FLEURETTE. 


And when it is considered that this income was gained 
without any outlay it must be admitted that the house of 
Fleurette & Co. was a model one, such as is seldom found 
in Paris. 

The following morning she had just made her usual 
harvest and picked up her mysterious bouquet, and was 
preparing to go out, when she saw Etienne at the entrance. 

u Ah ! it’s you ! ” she cried out with pleasure. 

“ I have come to see you,” replied the young workman. 

“ I am going to my business.” 

And she pointed to the neat willow basket on her arm, 
which she had bought, and in which she packed her goods. 

“ In what direction are you going ? ” 

“ Wherever there are people.” 

“May I accompany you?” 

“ Certainly.” 

The pair walked side by side as far as Notre Dame de 
Lorette. 

“ I have come to pay you,” said Etienne. 

“ Already ! ” 

“ That is, to make a payment on account. A customer, 
for whom I was putting in glass all day yesterday, made 
me a present of twelve sous, which I bring you.” 

“Very well,” replied Fleurette, whose first impulse was 
to tell him to keep it ; but she immediately felt that it was 
not best to discourage his growing economy by being too 
indulgent. 

“ Let us divide it,” she said “ six sous to me, and 

the rest to you. A man should never be without money.” 

“ Thanks, Fleurette.” 

“ But try to bring the same amount again soon.” 

“The devil ! but you are hard with your debtors ! ” 

“ It’s necessary in business. Where are you going ? ” 

“I have an errand to do, and shall take the opportunity 
to see my sister Michelette at the shop.” 

“ Where is it ? ” 

“ In the rue Neuve-Coquenard\ it is but a little way.” 

“I’ll go with you. You promised to introduce me to 
your sister.” 

“ Meanwhile,” said Etienne, with a look at Fleurette’s 
basket, “ what’s to become of your business ? ” 


FLEURETTE. 


33 


“ I carry it on everywhere,” she answered, seeing a 
well-dressed young man approach, to whom she offered a 
bouquet. 

“ How much for this ? ” he asked, struck with Fleu- 
rette’s appearance. 

“ Five sous, to you'' 

“ Why to me? " 

“ You have too genteel an air to higgle.” 

The purchaser, junior-leader at a lyric theatre, had too 
much conceit to he insensible to the compliment. 

“ I would buy it willingly,” he said, taking out a piece 
of fifty centimes,” but I have no change.” 

“ I have, monsieur ,” returned Fleurette — “ that is,” 
she added, taking the piece,” unless monsieur prefers two 
bouquets.” 

“ Two for me ! ” 

“ No, but one for her to whom you will offer it, and 
who, I’m sure,” she added with a little smile of flattery, 
“ will be very well pleased.” 

The young leader thought of the pretty actress with 
whom he was to sing a duet at the noon rehearsal. 

“ Keep it all,” he said to Fleurette, walking off snuff- 
ing the perfume of the two bouquets. 

“ You see ! ” said the young girl, putting the ten sous in 
her purse. 

“Yes, I see,” rejoined Etienne, with a look of discont- 
ent — “ I see that, for your age, you are a bold flatterer.” 

“ All very simple,” said Fleurette naively ; “ it's busi- 
ness 

“ Ah ! well ! — I'm satisfied ; you’ll make a fortune yet.” 

“ I hope so,” she answered coolly. 

Thus conversing they reached the middle of the rue 
Neuve Goquenard and mounted a stairway at the rear of a 

court. 


3 


34 


FLEURETTE. 


CHAPTER V. 

In a large room, under the direction of a foreman, at a 
long table were a dozen girls who made artificial flowers for a 
rich manufacturer, at the rate of thirty sous a day. These 
flowers were objects of admiration, masterpieces of art and 
skill, adornments for the hair, and decorations for ball- 
costumes. 

Michel ette, whom Etienne came to visit, and to whom 
he presented his new friend, was somewhat older than her 
brother. She was only eighteen, but appeared at least 
twenty. She was, or rather had. been, pretty. Her fresh- 
ness was already gone, and her cheeks had nothing in them 
resembling the rose which she had just finished and held in 
her hand. 

Unremitting labor, scanty food, and want of exercise 
and fresh air, had emaciated her fragile form ; but hand- 
some eyes, beautiful teeth, and a graceful figure made 
Michelette still an attractive girl. 

She received the little flower-girl in a manner so engag- 
ing that Fleurette conceived at once a strong liking for her ; 
and then, so great was Fleurette’s love of flowers, that all 
these unknown varieties about her, which seemed to bud and 
bloom under the deft fingers of the operatives, excited both 
her curiosity and her wonder. 

She wanted to question Michelette about everything she 
saw ; but the foreman approached, saying, in an imperious 
tone : 

“ You have talked enough, mademoiselle ! — that is not 
what you are paid for. You, monsieur Etienne, are admitted 
on account of your relationship ; but you know that 
strangers are not allowed here in work-hours. ” 

“ True,” said Michelette to her new friend ; “ but come 
when you please for an hour at noon, which is our luncheon 
time. Can you do so. 

“ I can always do it,” replied Fleurette, with a glance 
at the foreman. “ I am free, myself, and subject to the 
commands of no one. 


FLEURETTE . 


35 


This answer , which received the general approbation, 
did not meet that of mademoiselle Charlotte. 

Mademoiselle Charlotte was a pretty blonde, with blue 
eyes, turned up nose, and a generally wide-awake look. 
She was the most skillful worker, and had the worst 
tongue in the shop. Whoever fixed the attention, or at- 
tracted the looks of others, was sure to incur her displeasure. 
The flower-girl of the streets seemed to her out of place 
among those who made flowers indoors; and she had 
already vented' two or three sneers in an undertone on the 
young girl, her manners, and especially her dress, of all 
which Fleurette did not lose a word. 

She hastened to take leave of Michelette and quit the 
shop happy to find herself once more in the open air, and 
to breathe as much of it as could be had in the rueNueve 
Goquenard. 

She did a good day’s business, and returned to madame 
Beaurin’s in the evening thinking of Michelette. For her, 
Michelette and Etienne seemed to constitute almost a 
family. 

It never occured to her to confouud her god-mother 
with these. She was of a nature too superior to allow the 
least connection, in Fleurette’s mind, between the adoration 
which she felt for her, and the friendship she entertained 
for the others. 

She was still more inclined to believe in her god-mother’s 
divine protection on receiving, next morning a fresh proof 
of it. 

She went out, carrying her usual harvest of flowers, 
which she had only to stoop in order to gather. At the 
corner of the rue de JVavarm and the rue des Martyrs she 
was saluted by a handsome young man, M. William, an 
errand-porter living in the same street with herself. 

Every morning William saw the young flower-girl going 
out with her basket on her arm, and made her a bow, a 
civility which she always graciously returned. Fleurette, 
as we have already said, had a certain tendency to coquetry. 

William bore no resemblance to Etienne. He might 
almost be called a settled man. He had^established a busi- 
ness in that quarter. There was not an errand to do, a 
bundle to be carried, or a load of wood to saw, that William 


36 


FLEURETTE . 


was not called upon, who, with his twenty-five years, brawny 
shoulders, and vigorous arms, could do, in a few minutes, 
what would have required of another a whole morning. 

Though it was still early he was already shaven, and 
had on fresh linen. 

“ Oh ! Oh ! ” cried Fleurette, “ how fine you are, monsieur 
William ! ” 

“ Yes — in full dress.” 

“ Are you going to a wedding ? ” 

“ No. The char-woman opposite, who lost her husband 
last month, has just had a sixth boy born, and has asked 
me to be his godfather. I have consented, for the reason 
that I shall some day take charge of my god-son, and that 
will leave the mother one less to support.” 

William spoke the words so simply and good-naturedly 
that .Fleurette was sensibly moved. Had she followed her 
first impulse she would have embraced him, but she did not 
dare. She was eager to express her approbation, but could 
not find the words. She stopped before him searching in 
her basket. 

“ A god-father will need a bouquet,” she said, “ I beg 
you to accept this one, monsieur William, and here is one 
for the mother.” 

So saying she presented him her two finest bouquets of 
violets. 

“ Thanks, my good little girl ! ” cried William, throwing 
his arms about her neck, and planting a great kiss on each 
cheek. “ I shall carry your present to Madame Jacques. 
As for mine, I promise you never to part with it ; and shall 
begin by putting it in my button-hole. It will give me quite 
the air of a bridegroom. Well, my child, let me not detain 
you. Time is the wealth of people who work, and is not to 
be wasted. 

Fluerette waved him an adieu and went down the rue 
des Martyrs , repeating to herself the names of William and 
Madame Jacques. She had extended the circle of her society 
by the addition of two good and substantial friends. 

She first visited M. Rymbaud, the florist. He had taken 
her into his friendship. He was charmed with her intelli- 
gence and industry ; and, convinced that a pretty face like 
hers would, in a year or two, materially contribute to the 


FLEURETTE . 


37 


attractions of his shop, he still preserved the idea of secur- 
ing her as an assistant. But she held out against all his in- 
ducements. Thanks to her godmother, and the sum paid 
every morning by M. Rymb/iud for her camelias, she was 
independent. 

That day as usual, he paid her a good price ; and Fleu- 
rette, after making the round of the boulevards, and visit- 
ing the doors of the most frequented cafes having profit- 
ably disposed of half her violets reserved the rest for even- 
ing, and turned in the direction of the rue JSTeuve-Coque- 
nard. It was now the girls lunch hour and time for recrea- 
tion. 

The scene was greatly changed. The strict order en- 
forced in working hours had given place to noise, chatter, 
and unrestrained jollity. The work-girls gave themselves 
up to the liveliest merriment, and mademoiselle Charlotte, 
insisting that honest girls were never prudish, had no fear 
of a word a little broad, or an expression a little free. There 
were none but women present ; and the constant glee and 
laughter was enough to make wisdom herself giddy. 

Some of the girls, in anticipation of the amusements of 
Sunday, rehearsed among themselves certain polkas, and 
whirled around the work-table with an animation that 
threatened to become contagious, when Charlotte frightened 
them by crying : 

“ Silence ! — the foreman’s coming ! 

Fleurette, who had retired to a corner to talk privately 
with Michelette, was soon obliged to give up a convesation 
in which it was impossible to hear .a word. 

These customs and scenes, altogether new, astonished, 
but did not displease her. It was a sort of gayety, which, 
perhaps would have lost nothing by being a little more re- 
strained ; but it was a gayety which she found, nevertheless, 
attractive and seductive. An instinct of modesty told her 
that while the mirthfulness was that which is natural to 
young girls, it might have been expressed more decorously; 
but in spite of all, she was so fascinated by the novelty 
of the scene, and especially with the desire of learning, 
that she looked and listened, allowing no detail to escape 
her. 

She felt annoyed, it is true; but to conceal. her embar- 


38 


FLEUR ETTE. 


rassment, and that she might not appear awkward, she af- 
fected an assurance and hardihood she was far from feeling. 

“ Take care,” cried Michelette to Charlotte, waltzing at 
the moment in rather extravagant style — “take care, you 
are exposing too much of your ancle.” 

“ So much the better,” answered the other gayly, “ if it 
is pretty, and I Hatter myself it is.” 

And looking toward Fleurette, she added : 

“ The little one’s a prude — she droops her eye.” 

“ It’s false ! ” cried Fleurette, vexed at the bursts of 
laughter that followed — “ it’s false ! ” 

And she cast a defiant look at Charlotte. 

“ She blushes, girls,” retorted the latter — “see how she 
blushes.” 

“It’s false!” repeated the poor girl, with energy, her 
cheeks fairly purple. 

“ Well, keep your temper, you little ninny ; you are ex- 
cusable,” said Charlotte, “ You see, girls,” she added with an 
air of feigned indulgence which stung Fleurette to the quick, 
“ the little one knows nothing yet of the world or society.” 

“ And for that reason,” said Michelette, “ I invite her, 
with your permission, ladies, to join our Sunday party for 
a donky-ride at Mountmorency to-morrow,” 

“ Agreed ! agreed ! ” they answered ; “ it will be good 
training for her.” 

“ Permit me, ladies,” interrupted Charlotte ; “ you have 
not informed her that it is a picnic, and that each is expected 
to pay her way — two francs a head ; and it’s possible,” she 
added with a lofty air, “and even probable, meaning no 
offence, that her means do not permit — ” 

“ I shall pay ! I shall pay ! ” broke in Fleurette, with 
aroused pride ! “ I have the means.” 

“I congratulate you, little one,” returned Charlotte; 

“ one would hardly have supposed it. But I ought to tell 
you that on Sunday suitable clothes are indispensable ; and 
it is our custom on that day,” she continued, scanning the 
flower-girl from head to foot, “ to spruce up more or less. 

“ I shall do so, mademoiselle,” replied the latter, whose 
self-esteem was piqued ; “ I shall endeavor to do you no dis- 
credit.” 

“ Don’t mind her,” said Michelette, “ yourpresence will 


FLEURETTE. 89 

give us pleasure. To-morrow, before eight come as you will, 
you will be well received. I shall notify Etienne.” 

“ There will be gentlemen, then ? ” said Fleurette art* 
tlessly. 

“ What a question ! ” exclaimed Charlotte, with a laugh, 
and an ostentatious courtsey to Fleurette, repeating : 

“ There will be gentlemen.” 

At this moment the foreman entered. The hour was 
up. Each took her place at the work-table, and Fleurette 
took leave of her new friends, occupied with thoughts hith- 
erto unknown, and a prey to vexation, pride, and violent 
anger ; sentiments to which her heart had before been a 
stranger. 

Before the end of the day she had bought a handsome 
gown of bright blue merino, which became her exceedingly ; 
a pair of half boots to match, which so neatly fitted her 
small feet that they looked still smaller ; and a rose-colored 
hat, which barely covered her head, without concealing her 
white forehead and beautiful dark hair. 

All these articles she carried home neatly done up in a 
white naj^kin, and carefully laid them away in her chamber. 
She had no sleep that night. She could only think of the 
pleasure it would give her to-morrow to look beautiful and 
humble mademoiselle Charlotte. 


CHAPTER VI. 

As soon as it was day Fleurette began her toilet. 

Her boudoir was but dimly lighted ; and, as usual, in 
order to see, she was obliged to open the door, which oc- 
casioned no other inconvenience than that of cold ; for at 
that hour no one was stirring, and the garden was com- 
pletely deserted. 

In arranging her hair she was assisted by a fragment of 
looking-glass which she had discovered among the-old lum- 
ber stored away by madame Beaurin. 

The clock of Notre Dame de Lorette struck half-past 


40 


FLEURETTE. 


seven. It was time to go, for Michelette had said : “In the 
morning, before eight.” On entering the garden she saw 
her godmother’s bouquet at her feet. Her beneficence, 
it seemed, did not rest, even on Sunday. 

What was to be done with this bouquet, seeing that she 
was going on a party of pleasure ? She could not carry on 
her usual traffic ; and yet Sunday was her best day — the 
day on which most people were out ; she had not thought 
of that before. 

She might have run to M. Rymbaud’s, and disposed of 
her camelias, at least ; but it was now too late. She had 
barely time to reach the rue N'euve-Coquenard. On the 
other hand, if she left the flowers at home she would find 
them faded and withered on her return. 

There was a use to put them to which all at once oc- 
curred to her, suggested alike by coquetry and self esteem. 
How could she resist the temptation ? She took from the 
boquet the three white camelias, which harmonized 
charmingly with the shade of her bright blue gown, and 
put them in her belt. 

The first effect of this elegant and splendid toilet was 
produced on madame Beaurin, who happened, at the 
moment, to be at the carriage-entrance. She was fairly 
stupefied, and would have fallen thunderstruck but for the 
support of the broom handle she held in her hand. 

Respect was pictured in every feature as she hastened 
to respond, with a profound courtesy, to the patronizing 
“ good morning ” of the young girl. 

At the street corner, some steps further on, she met 
William, the errand porter, who said : 

“ Madame Jacques sends you her thanks.” 

Then, stopping in the middle of his speech, he looked at 
her astonished. 

“ Do you find me beautiful?” asked Fleurette. 

William answered with a strange smile — a sad smile, 
which seemed to say : “ Too beautiful.” And as she was 
passing on, he could not help asking : 

“ Where are you going ? ” 

“To Montmorency, with some young girls, friends of 
mine.” 

“ Ah ! ” he replied, with a shake of his head, “ at your 


FLEURETTE. 41 

age young girls, especially in this quarter, are often as 
dangerous as young men.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ Oh ! nothing, nothing,” he answered — “ a pleasant 
trip, mam’zelle, and much enjoyment ! ” 

Fleurette hurried rapidly away, and a few minutes after 
was in the midst of her companions. 

Great as was the effect she had hoped to produce, it far 
exceeded her expectations. Michelette on beholding her, 
uttered an exclamation of gratified surprise. Her brother 
Etienne, who was present, flushed with pleasure, and Char- 
lotte turned pale with vexation. The other girls flocked 
about her minutely examining her dress, some with curiosity, 
others with envy. 

Two or three young workmen, in Sunday dress, who 
were introduced as cousins of the young ladies, were so 
loud in their encomiums on her toilet, her youth and her 
beauty, that several of the ladies were visibly displeased. 
The three white camelias especially excited remark. 

u They are number one ! ” said a girl in a calash. 

“ The great ladies whom we supply do not wear as fine 
ones,” remarked another.. 

“ And you bought them ? ” asked Michelette. 

“ Ho, indeed, they are too dear.” 

“ How comes it then that you are so finely decked out 
so early in the morning ? ” 

“ That’s easily guessed,” said Charlotte ; “ some mindful 
lover gives timely attention to the requirements of our 
young acquaintance.” 

“Why not?” replied Fleurette, whose pride made her 
prefer rather to be suspected than defend herself by de- 
claring the truth. 

“ To whom, then,” cried Etienne, in a fit of vexation, 
“ has mam’zelle given hopes ? ” 

“ Do I owe you an account of my conduct ? ” answered 
Fleurette defiantly, comprehending his manner rather than 
his words. 

They reached the Northern railway on foot, and the 
party from the rue Coquenard entered a third-class com- 
partment of an omnibus train, which, in a few minutes, set 
them down at Montmorency. 


42 


FLEUR ETTE. 


Who knows whether during the ride they refrained from 
pleasantries and witticisms more or less light? 

The young girls laughed, and Fleurette laughed with 
them — not that she had the least idea why, but she 
wished to have the air of knowing. What really amused 
her was Etienne’s countenance when she listened, with a 
knowing smile, to certain recitals which, to her, were veri- 
table riddles. 

Etienne’s anger made her laugh heartily, and as an off- 
set, the other girls, while sharing her gaiety, affected to be 
shocked at it, beginning with Charlotte, who found the 
young flower-girl very forward for her age. 

During the breakfast, and the events and catastrophes 
of the donkey-riding, the mirth was redoubled. The cav- 
aliers, especially, M. Pierre, a young cabinet-maker, took 
much more notice of the other girls than of Fleurette, who 
amused them for a time, but from whom they soon turned 
away as from the child that she was. Etienne, alone, did 
not leave her, keeping constantly beside her and her donkey, 
whose bridle he insisted on holding. 

Far from being gratified by this devotion, our little 
ingrate felt humiliated by it, and urged forward her steed, 
which would have gladly remained behind ; but Fleurette 
used every effort to keep up with the other girls and their 
companions. 

The conversation took so free a turn, that, in spite of 
her inexperience, Fleurette could hardly fail to comprehend 
it. It thus came about that before evening she had really 
acquired the knowledge which she had pretended to have 
in the morning. But the galloping of the long-eared cour- 
sers, the shouts and bursts of laughter, kept her from re- 
flection. 

Charlotte, who did not forgive her refusal to be either 
intimidated or disconcerted, at every moment redoubled 
her attacks. Her principal gift was a talent for raillery, and ' 
her chief attraction, as she boasted herself, a pretty ankle. 

But Fleurette, by her pungent answers and the freedom 
of her performances on her donkey, proved several times 
in the course of the day that she had not only more wit 
than Charlotte but quite as pretty an ankle ; so that, on the 
whole, by general accord, the victory remained with Fleu« 


FLEURETTE . 


48 


rette. But in return she had made a bitter enemy of her 
new associate. 

They returned to Paris by the night train. The shouts 
of laughter were kept up the whole way — on the part of 
the others with a boisterous gaiety, on Fleurette ’s part 
with a mingling of sadness. She had been much less 
amused and much better instructed than she had supposed. 
Had she been the gainer ? That was a question she was 
hardly yet prepared to answer. 

The train arrived too late for the young ladies to think 
of trusting themselves on the streets alone, so they were 
escorted home by their cavaliers. Etienne offered Fleurette 
his arm, which she would gladly have dispensed with, but 
which she accepted in order to be like the others. 

Etienne was delighted with his day. His sister had 
paid for him ; but he was chiefly captivated with Fleurette, 
on whom every one had complimented him, and who 
promised, in a year or two, to be the prettiest and most 
enchanting grisette of the ATavarin quarter. 

The pair walked along without speaking. At last Etienne 
felt called upon to break the silence. 

“ Do you know Fleurette, that you were very pretty to- 
day ? ” 

“ I know it,” she answered indifferently. 

“ And well dressed ? ” 

“ It is true.” 

There was another silence, after which he resumed, with 
embarrassment. 

“ Do you know that I have a great liking for you ? ” 

“You do well.” 

“ And have you the same for me ? ” 

“ There is no reason for that yet. It may come about, if 
you conduct yourself well, are industrious, and pay me what 
you owe.” 

“ Oh ! certainly,” replied Etienne, a little disconcerted 
— adding, with an effort to recover himself, “ only tell me, 
Fleurette, when I may expect your love?” 

She did not understand him. J ust then she reached home. 
She knocked at the door, and entering, closed it on Etienne, 
who stood motionless in the street as if still awaiting an 
answer. 


44 


FLEURETTE. 


Madame Beaurin let her in without grumbling, though 
it was late ; for madame Beaurin never allowed herself to 
make observations when she believed a lodger fairly in the 
way by which young girls in that quarter not unfrequently 
reached the state of great ladies. 

Fleurette, who had slept little the night before, slept still 
less on this. She was dissatisfied with herself and all the 
world ; with herself, for being in the wrong, and with 
William, who had been in the right and told her the truth. 
What she had seen and heard, what she had learned in the 
society of the young work-girls, almost made her regret the 
ignorance she had lost. She had been happy with it. Her 
new knowledge brought her shame. Besides, she had squan- 
dered the gains of several days, and the bounty of her god- 
mother, in a profitless pleasure party, and gaudy and useless 
clothes. Finally, she had lost a work-day. What a multi- 
tude of faults to reproach herself with 1 

She must hasten to repair them. 


CHAPTER VII. 

Fleurette rose early, and hurried into the garden. 

But, to her great surprise, she saw no bouquet. She 
searched carefully, but found nothing. Her godmother had 
abandoned her. 

Persuaded that her godmother was displeased with her, 
Fleurette drooped her head and wept like a child. The 
knowledge acquired yesterday had not destroyed her faith. 
She still believed in her good angel — in her godmother. 

“ She had good cause,” she said, wiping away her tears; 
“ I was unworthy of her protection. It is for her to punish, 
for me to submit and merit pardon.” 

Fleurette had one strong quality, that of deciding on her 
course, on the spot, and of promptly and persistently carry- 
ing out her resolution. She counted her money, and found 
that she had hardly fifteen francs remaining. 


FLEURETTE. 


45 


She had not so much — at least not more — when she be- 
gan. But she must no longer expect the extraordinary- 
gains hitherto obtained, nor the treasures which had fallen 
every day as if from heaven. She must confine her hopes 
to the usual moderate profits. She must make up, by 
economy, for the smallness of her receipts. 

She made a long journey beyond the barrier to buy a 
basket of violets from a gardener in the suburbs and these 
she made into bouquets. Her task was more painful and less 
profitable than it had been recently. Never mind ! she must 
redouble her zeal, activity, intelligence, and skill. 

She was afoot from six in the morning till eleven at 
night ; and toward midnight, after the closing of the theatres, 
when she turned into the rue JVavarin , she had received 
three francs and twelve sous. 

On her way to her lodgings, crushed with fatigue but 
far happier than yesterday, she passed the house of madaine 
Jacques, the char-woman. The windows had no shutters, 
and through the panes, one of which was broken, could be 
seen the poor widow nursing her babe before a fireless 
hearth; for she used no coals to warm herself — they were 
for her customers, and were her sole means of procuring 
bread for her five other children. 

Fleurette looked at her in silence, and thinking of the 
good day’s work she had done ; “ Ah ! ” she cried, “ the 
twelve sous will be enough for me ; the three francs shall 
go to her.” 

She threw the money through the broken pane, and took 
to her heels, never stopping till she reached her own door, 
which she closed after her. And then she entered the 
porter’s lodge to get her supper. 

“ Goodness ! how pretty you look ! ” exclaimed madame 
Beaurin. 

“ It’s because I’m happy, mother Beaurin. Let us have 
supper.” 

As usual the portress tried to get Fleurette to talk, but 
she was more reserved than ever ; and madame Beaurin’s 
curiosity, as usual, went ungratified. 

Fleurette never passed a more tranquil night. She got 
up late, and though still a little tired resolved to begin 
another busy day. But on entering the garden a new sur- 


46 


FLEURETTE. 


prise awaited her. She saw at her feet a superb bouquet, 
fresher and more elegant than any she had yet found ! 

“ Ah ! ” she exclaimed, falling on her knees, “ my god- 
mother has forgiven me.” 

Reconciled with herself, Fleurette hastened to make up 
her bouquets, and ran to M. Rymbaud, whom she had not 
seen yesterday, nor the day before, and who felt uneasy at 
her absence — 

But when she presented her three handsome camelias, 
one white, another purple, and the third orange, she noticed 
on the countenance of the honest merchant an expression of 
surprise. 

“ What is the matter?” she asked; “ do not my flowers 
suit you ? ” 

“ Perfectly ! ” 

“ Are they not beautiful ? n 

“ Magnificent ; they are from my own shop, I sold . 
them yesterday.” 

“ Indeed ! ” she cried, astonished. 

“ This camelia, which I recognize — the one with the 
yellow border — is very costly, in proof of which,” he added, 
opening his drawer, “ there are ten francs for you. But 
tell me where you got these flowers.” 

Fleurette related frankly and artlessly how she received 
the flowers, not withholding her firm conviction that they 
came from her godmother. 

The old flower-merchant listened silently and without 
interruption ; and when she had finished, without combating 
or contradicting her ideas, he said : 

“Very well, my child; probably other similar ones will 
come. Bring them here every morning, and I’ll give you 
ten francs.” 

Fleurette went away enchanted. 

Next morning, as M. Rymbaud had predicted, she found 
another bouquet at her feet. 

It might almost have been taken for the same, but that 
it was not quite so fresh, though the violets which surrounded 
it appeared, as though they might have been just gathered. 

She untied and divided it as before, first laying aside the 
part intended forM. Rymbaud, and then making the violets 
into small bouquets to be sold separately. But all at once 


FLEURETTE. 


47 


something dropped from the midst of the flowers which she 
had not seen before. It was a small note, neatly folded, and 
diffusing a perfume rivalling that of the bouquet. 

The note was unsealed. She opened it. It contained 
lines and characters which were as Hebrew to her, for Fleu- 
rette had never learned to read, had never been at school; 
indeed it would have been difficult to tell at what period of 
her life she would have found it possible to go there. 

How was she to find out the contents of the note ? To 
do so, she must make a confidant of some one. Madame 
Beaurin was hardly able to spell out the names of her lodgers 
on their journals and letters, and, besides, to confide in 
her was equivalent to taking into her confidence the whole 
quarter. Madame Beaurin was as much out of the question 
as Etienne, who was not sufficiently discreet to be trusted 
with such a secret. 

There was William, but somehow Fleurette dreaded his 
strictness. All at once the idea of M. Rymbaud presented 
itself, and that decided her. 

M. Rymbaud was a well-balanced man, observing much 
and speaking little — a course which he had found greatly to 
his advantage. He looked upon his occupation as resembling 
that of a notary — that is, as one of confidence and discretion. 
If love affairs played an important part in society, bouquets 
played a part equally important in love affairs. 

In many a delicate conjuncture, where the slightest indis- 
cretion would have ruined all, his silence had saved every- 
thing — the tranquility of the husband, the honor of the wife, 
and the safety of the lover, or lovers ; for on particular oc- 
casion it was not unusual for several bouquets to be ordered 
by different gallants for the same person. 

And, if the multiplicity of these offerings led to disputes 
among lovers or in households or to a demand for explan- 
ations not easily given, M. Rymbaud took the whole upon 
himself. 

The ladies might appeal to his testimony without fear. 
He never contradicted their assertions. He was always 
ready to take blame on himself, and explain everything on 
the ground of some mistake or blunder of his own. 

He was constantly obliged to listen to such comments as : 
“ Poor Rymbaud ! he is so stupid;” but those who made 


48 


FLEURETTE . 


them always came back to him, and the result was the es- 
tablishment of an extensive patronage among the richest 
and most fastidious of the fashionable ladies of Paris. 

It was to him that Fleurette went to confide her secret. 
He already knew part of it, and there was no better course 
than to trust the whole to his discretion. 

He took the note which she handed to him, and read 
as follows : 

“ Charming Delia : I know that you are in the power 
“ of one who is as jealous as he is old and ugly. For myself, 
“ I can assure you of one thing — I am young, and, they tell 
“ me not bad looking. He, they say, is rich : so am I. In 
“ a word I have bet a thousand napoleons that I shall get 
<£ you away from him. Help me win them, and they are 
“ yours. Let that be the first pledge of love of your ardent 
w admirer, 

“Ltjdovtc Durussel.” 

Fleurette, whose ideas had been considerably extended 
by her trip to Montmorency and the conversation of the 
young ladies, pretty well understood the drift ; but could 
form no conception of how her godmother was concerned. 
So she questioned M. Rymbaud on the point. 

“ My dear child,” he answered, “ the most painful thing 
to me is to destroy your illusion. Your godmother is, no 
doubt, a beautiful, noble, and virtuous young lady, who has 
nothing to do with this affair. Her name ? ” 

“ 1 do not know it.” 

“ So much the better. It should not be spoken along 
with that of mademoiselle Delia, who is one of our most cel- 
ebrated ‘ lionesses ’ Do you know what a ‘ lioness * is ? ” 

“ Mademoiselle Charlotte has informed me.” 

“ She is one of those who use the most flowers of this 
kind,’’ pointing to those which Fleurette held in her hand. 
M Do you know what is meant by a dame aux camelias f ” 

“ Mademoiselle Charlotte has told me.” 

“ Well, mademoiselle Delia has been living for a fort- 
night at Ho. 29, rue de Navarin, first floor.” 

“ It is my own number.” 

“ I was not aware of that. Mademoiselle Delia receives 


FLEURETTE. 


49 


an old Mexican nobleman, immensely rich, who is her pro- 
tector — do you comprehend ? ” 

Fleurette interrupted quickly. 

“ Madameoiselle Charlotte has explained it to me.” 

“ A young man of fashion, M. Ludovic Durussel, only 
son of a rich jeweler, wishes to entice mademoiselle Delia 
away from the old Mexican, and so, every evening, comes 
and buys a fine bouquet which he sends by her femme de 
chambre , whom he pays liberally to convey it her mistress. 
But the femme de chambre , being devoted to the interests of 
the Mexican, who pays her still better, instead of delivering 
the bouquets to her mistress throws them out of the 
window.” 

“ Ah ! ” cried Fleurette, abashed, “ what is to come of it 
all?” 

“Whatever will,” answered M. Rymbaud. “In our 
business it is necessary to serve everybody and displease 
none. At any rate the flowers are not to blame. Every 
day, as long asM. Ludovic shall order it and his attachment 
last, I shall send a bouquet worth twenty francs, which, 
two or three hours afterwards, if you bring it here, I shall 
buy back at half-price. But be careful, Fleurette, not to 
rely too much on such a chance, nor build hopes on a re- 
source so little likely to be lasting. Count on what is sub- 
stantial and solid, and, to begin, depend no longer on your 
godmother or any one else in the world. Depend only on 
yourself, your industry, and your skill. These are the only 
means, in these days, of gaining a fortune.” 

Fleurette went away sick at heart. She could not ex- 
plain to herself the change in her feelings. She saw herself 
forced to give up convictions which had kept her good and 
happy. 

She lost, in her godmother, her faith, her belief, her 
illusion. No longer knowing toward what to raise her 
heart or her thoughts, having no longer a heaven, she fell 
to the earth, where, as far as she could discover, there was 
nothing to encourage her to good. Everything urged her 
toward evil, or, at least, toward selfishness or indiffer- 
ence. 

M. Rymbaud had given her very wise and very practica. 
advice ; but it was to her heart that it was necessary to 

4 


50 


FLEURETTE. 


speak, and not to her reason, which was already on.y too 
precocious. 

Unaided by principles, she had no guide but impulse, a 
species of instinct, which often kept her in the right Avay. 

This impulse, carried, it may be, to an extreme, told her 
that Avhile she might receive as gifts from her godmother 
these bouquets which seemed to fall from the sky she could 
not accept them from a stranger. 

Besides, the flowers, though abandoned, had a value, 
small as it was, probably not suspected by those Avho threw 
them away, and of Avliich it was not proper that she should 
take advantage without their knowledge. 

Madame Beaurin was astonished to see her return at 
mid-day; but, having become reconciled to being kept in 
ignorance of Fleurette’s affairs, she made no inquiries. It 
was the latter who began to question. 

“ Have you not,” she asked, “ in your house,” — she 
knew that this expression would flatter the portress — “ a 
madame Delia, aaAio occupies the first floor?” 

I am proud to say so replied madame Beaurin, “ my best 
lodger, a lady Avhose acquaintance, my dear, I would recom- 
mend you to lose no time in forming, I’ll present you to her 
if you like. Though rich, she is not proud, and she and I 
are like two fingers of the same hand.” 

Fleurette made no answer to this proposition, but con- 
tinued : 

“ Hasn’t she a femme de chambre ? ” 

“ Mademoiselle Justine,” cried Madame Beaurin, disdain- 
fully— a an impertinent minx, insolent, good for nothing, 
' who thinks herself too much of a princess to speak to com- 
mon people, or even to notice them. Yesterday, only think, 
my child ” 

Without waiting for the rest of her story Fleurette 
made a gesture of thanks, and hurried to her OAvn apart- 
meot. She dressed herself in her best, the same clothes 
she had worn on her trip to Montmorency to eclipse madem- 
oiselle Charlotte, and in this brilliant costume mounted the 
grand stairway, Avhich she had never ascended before; and 
gave tAvo knocks at the first-floor door. 

It was opened by a servant in livery. 

“Madame does not receive. She has not yet risen,” 


FLEURETTE. 


51 


“ It is not to her I wish to speak.” 

“ Is it to me, little one ? ” said the lackey, with a soft- 
ened air. 

“ No, Monsieur, but to Mademoiselle Justine, on a mat- 
ter of importance.” 

“Oh! that’s different,” replied the man in livery; 
“she’s at breakfast with one of her friends, I’ll let her 
know.” 

Fleurette waited in an ante-chamber, admiring the furni- 
ture. She thought it the finest apartment she had ever seen. 
In a few minutes the lackey returned. 

“ Mademoiselle Justine consents to see you, ” he said. 

Fleurette was conducted to a boudoir whose luxury and 
elegance still more surprised her, and made her tremble for 
the success of her negotiation. 

Mademoiselle Justine, seated at a round table with 
Palmyre, a young femme de chambre , one of her friends, 
was despatching a slice of buttered bread and a cup of tea. 

“ Come in, mademoiselle,” she said with a patronizing 
air, “ Larose says you wish to speak to me on a matter of 
importance ? ” 

“ Yes, mademoiselle.” 

“ Isn’t she a droll little one ? ” said Palmyre, pouring 
herself another cup of tea. 

“ Speak,” said Justine ; and seeing that she paused 
added : “ you need not hesitate before Palmyre. She is my 
most intimate friend.” 

Fleurette was re-assured, and as she had not been asked 
to sit down, though there were ]fienty of chairs, she took 
one. This unintentional piece of assurance produced a 
good effect on the others, who thought that one who acted 
with so little ceremony was entitled to be treated with 
some. 

So they listened attentively. 

“Mademoiselle,” said Fleurette, addressing Justine, 
“ every morning, for a week, you have thrown a bouquet 
out of the window — a very beautiful bouquet.” 

“What is that to you?” replied Justine, haughtily; 
by what right do you come here ? 

“ I come to thank you.” 

Justine looked at her astonished 


52 


FLEURETTE. 


“I am a flower-girl, mademoiselle,” Fleurette continued, 
“and these bouquets have a value of which you are ignor- 
ant, or which, perhaps, you despise, but by which I have 
no right to profit without informing either you or your 
mistress.” 

“ My mistress has nothing to do with it,” answered 
Justine, with an embarrassent which Fleurette did not fail 
to notice; “they are my perquisites, and I do what I like 
with bouquets which my mistress has worn, or which she 
does not want.” 

“Well, mademoiselle,” returned Fleurette, coolly, “this 
is my offer ; I shall come here every morning early and 
take the bouquets which your mistress has either worn or,” 
laying stress on the words, “ does not want , and pay you a 
franc apiece for them.” 

Justine made a gesture of surprise. 

“ It’s not much,” said Fleurette, in a conciliating tone, 
for a fine ladylike you, but it is a great deal for a poor girl, 
like me, just commencing business ; and then,” she added, 
with a smile, “ it’s at least thirty francs a month that you 
didn’t expect.” 

“Very true,” observed Palmyre. 

“ In proof of which here’s the price of ten bouquets, for 
which I already owe you. Short accounts make long 
friends.” 

And she laid ten francs on the table. 

“ What a charming little thing she is ! ” cried Justine. 

“ It’s so much money gained,” said Palmyre ; “ and I, 
who don’t know what to do with the bouquets my mistress 
gets every day — those from the Jockey-Club, for instance — 
would ask no better than to make a similar bargain with 
mademoiselle — ” 


“ On the same terms?” interposed Fleurette quickly — 
“ agreed ! ” 

“ Done ! ” replied mademoiselle Palmyre, reaching out 
her hand. “ I shall expect you every morning at No. 32, 
rue Chaptal ; and I promise you the patronage of all the 
principal femmes de chambre of the Br6da quarter.” 

“ Yours would be sufficient, mademoiselle,” said Fleu- 
rette, politely, “ but as the offer comes from you I accept 


FLEURETTE. 


53 


Fleurette rose. Her two patronesses saw her to the door, 
and mademoiselle Justine said to Larose, pointing to Fleu- 
rette at the same time, “ remember, I am always at home 
for mademoiselle at whatever hour she chooses to call.” 

Fleurette, who half an hour before had entered this 
grand apartment in the most doubtful and precarious posi- 
tion, left it with a treaty of commerce concluded which 
established the most advantageous relations between her- 
self and the floral world of Breda Street — relations 
which, with skill and industry, could not fail to create an 
immense business and assure her a position. 

There are in Paris many such industries — industries ex- 
ceedingly simple, and which nobody thinks of, but which 
enrich those who have the cleverness to adoj)t them first, 
and put them in practice on a grand scale. 

The first thing Fleurette did was to run to the rue Saint 
Lazare , at the corner of the rue du Rocher , where she had 
left her godmother’s goldpiece. It was returned to her, 
carefully wrapped in a piece of paper. As soon as she 
reached the street she looked at it with reverence and raised 
it to her lips. 

“ Sole memento of my godmother !” she murmured,” you 
shall never leave me again ! ” 

On the next day, and those followingFleurette made her 
harvest early, and w T ent laden with sheaves of flowers to the 
shop of M. Rymbaud, whom she partly associated in her 
speculation. 

Most of the bouquets were of the evening before, and 
some of them had either figured at a ball or in the front of 
a stage-box at the theatre, and, like those who had carried 
them, were not always in their first bloom and freshness. 
The price ranged accordingly, and they went on the morrow 
either to shine at weddings beyond the barrier, or at second- 
class jete s, or to be mingled in the huge baskets which 
decorate the stair case of a minister, or of a hotel on the 
occasion of a soiree. 

At other times, thanks to the management of a femme de 
chamhre , of two or three bouquets sent to the same person, 
only one would be accepted, and the other carefully preserv- 
ed and delivered to Fleurette, came back at half price to the 
green-house which they had just left. 


54 


FLEURETTE. 


In a few days Fleurette’s speculation produced results 
which were sure to increase with time, but which already 
returned such profits that, for the present, she gave up sell- 
ing at retail. She no longer offered bouquets on the 
promenades in the morning, or at the theatre doors in the 
evening. 

Another change : Fleurette felt that with her increase 
of business it was no longer proper to remain in the hovel 
in which she had hitherto passed her nights. A dealer in 
flowers of her position ought to be more suitable lodged. 

There was to let on the fifth floor, next the roof, a small 
chamber, light and airy, with a fire-place and a south 
window. 

A deep closet in the angle formed -by the slant of the 
roof gave the room a regular shape. It was there Fleurette 
intended keeping her wood and her cooking utensils when 
she got them. There was a second closet in the recess to 
the right of the fire-place, which would serve for her clothes. 

So many advantages cost dearly. The rent, like the 
chamber itself, was very high, being a hundred and sixty 
francs a year ; but, as we have seen, Fleurette knew how to 
calculate, and she saw that the ten sous a day which she 
paid Madame Beaurin would amount, in a year, to a hun- 
dred and eighty-two-francs and fifty centimes, and she no 
longer hesitated. 

On the morning of the 8th of April she presented her- 
self to the portress with her basket on her arm and asked 
to have opened the chamber on the fifth floor. 

“ Ah ! a very pretty apartment ! — it is to let.” 

“ It is no longer so.” 

“ How do you know that ! ” 

“ I have seen monsieur, the proprietor.” 

“You dared to go and see him without informing me ?” 

“Yes, mother Beaurin, and I asked a reduction, which 
he granted. I get it for one hundred and fifty francs.” 

“ A reduction of ten francs ! — a thing he has never done 
for any one before ! ” 

“I come to give you your gratuity and take my key.” 

Madam Beaurin, dumb with astonishment, took the silver 
piece handed her by the girl, and immediately offered, with 
a great show of zeal, to assist her in moving, 


FLEURETTE. 


55 


“ Thanks, mother Beaurin, it’s already done.” 

“ And your moveables ? ” 

“They are here,” said Fleurette, pointing to her basket. 
“ I shall need no help to carry them up.” 

Having most of her wearing apparel on her back, and 
her money in her pocket, she was not long installing her- 
self in her new abode. 

“ Within an hour she had found, in the rue des Martyrs and 
faubourg Montmartre , a complete and comfortable set of 
furniture : an iron bedstead, with a matrass ; a table, not 
for writing but for making he rbouquets, which had a drawer, 
with a locke, in which to keep her money ; a stove ; a 
saucepan ; a glass and two p 1 Add a water-pitcher and 

a basin and you have an idea the flower-girl’s furniture. 

Her friend William, whom she had charged with these 
purchases, selected and bought the whole, and then carried 
them on his back to the fifth floor. 

Fleurette had never found herself so well situated before : 
air, space, sunlight, comfort, even luxury ; and, amid all her 
joys, one which exceeded all the rest — she was at home ! 
But a single wish remained. 

“ Ah ! ” she cried, as she lay down to sleep, “ if my god- 
mother, could but see me.” 


CHAPTER VIII 

Two years and more had passed. The child had become 
a young woman, not beautiful but pretty. Her manner, 
though not striking, was original and piquante , and equally 
free from boldness and timidity — that of one who neither 
sought nor shunned admiration. At sight, one would have 
taken her for a coquette ; judged by her speech, she would 
have been reckoned prudent, modest, and impassive. Dur- 
ing these two years she had retained the same friends, pre- 
served with them the same relations, and frequented the 
same society. Her associates were Michelette and the shop- 


56 


FLEURETTE. 


girls, also Justine and Palmyre and their friends — lorettes 
of the second class, somewhat inferior, if that be possible, in 
tone and manners to lorettes of the first. 

The little flower-girl had grown up at hazard, without 
guidance, exposed to the influences of the society we have 
described, its language, morals, and principles, without 
troubling herself to inquire whether they were right or 
wrong. 

“ There was one thing to excite wonder and admiration 
— that in such soil the abandoned and neglected flower re- 
mained still fresh and untarnished. 

William the errand-porter, had early conceived a liking 
for Fleurette, warmer perhaps, than he was himself aware 
of. One circumstance drew them together, and established 
between them a bond of union ; remote, it is true, but almost 
a tie of kindred between those who had no other. William 
was a Swiss, as Fleurette believed herself to be. William 
was born at Schaffhausen ; but Fleurette did not know 
which was her native canton. No difference — the discovery 
that they were' of the same country had given rise to an in- 
timacy and affection between them on Fleurette’s part 
altogether filial, and day by day assuming a more tender 
character on the side of the young man. 

It was this, perhaps, without avowing it to himself, that 
made it so difficult for him to give Fleurette the prudent 
and sober counsel he often wished to offer her. She would 
look at him — the preceptor would become confused and 
stammer, and had neither strength nor courage to make the 
least remonstrance. 

Like all Swiss, absent from their native mountains, he 
longed for home, his chief ambition being to gain enough to 
enable him to return thither ; but he strove in vain to 
awaken in Fleurette the love and memory of her native 
hamlet. 

“ How is it,” he asked one day, as they sat together in the 
shop of madame Jacques, the char-woman, “that you can re- 
call neither the locality nor the name of your village ?” 

“ I can remember nothing but the white mountains.” 

‘ They are very beautiful ! ” 

“ And very cold ! ” 

“ You can recall nothing else ! ” 


FLEURETTE. 


“Yes, clusters of bright red flowers in the midst of the 
snow.” 

“I know them ! ” cried William. 

“Red flowers, shaped like a star.” 

“ The same ! — and the leaves always green.” 

“Yes, I can see them yet.” 

“ Then your father’s cottage must have been situated 
very high, for the ‘ Star of the Alps' only grows in elevated 
places.” 

“Ah ! what beautiful flowers ! — how different from cam- 
eras — they never fade, and their like is never seen in 
France.” 

“ I can well believe it — they only grow amid snow and 
icicles, and it is much easier to build warm hot houses than 
mountains of ice.” 

“ Ah ! ” cried Fleurette,with the ardent feeling of a young 
girl, “ how delighted I should be to have some of them ! ” 
William put his hand on her mouth as if to say : “ Stop ! — 
I cannot go to seek them for you ! ” thus reproducing un- 
consciously, and by a simple gesture, the delicate and tender 
speech of Lord Albemarle to his mistress, as she gazed ad- 
miringly at a star; “ Do not look for I can not give it to 
you .” 

“ Ah ! ” replied Fleurette, “I know well, good William, 
that you need no urging when it is a question of obliging 
me ; so I have a favor to ask.” 

The honest fellow made no answer. He moved his chair 
quickly near that of Fleurette and listened atentively, while 
Madame le Jacques went to attend to a customer who had 
just entered. 

“William,” she asked in a low tone, “have you made 
any savings ? ” 

“Yes,” he answered with a look of contentment and 
honest pride, “ I have made some.” 

“ How much ? ” 

“ Two hundred francs.” 

“ Quite a handsome amount.” 

“ And you, Fleurette ? ” 

“ I have a great deal — indeed too much ! ” 

“ How much then ? ” 

She lowered her voice, and whispered in his ear : 


:3 


FLEURETTE. 


“Not far from eight hundred francs.” 

“ God be thanked ! ” exclaimed William, raising his hand 
to his hat, “ for I am witness that it is money honestly 
earned ! But why do you call it too much ? ” 

“ Because I am at a loss where to put it.” 

“ That’s an embarrassment I have never felt yet,” said 
William, laughing. 

“ The little drawer of my table has not a very good lock, 
so that in my absence I have fears for my treasure, and in 
order to feel easy I have concluded to trust it to you.” 

“ To me ! ” cried William, astonished. 

“ To you, without anyone knowing it.” 

William paused a moment before answering. He was 
greatly touched by this mark of friendship and esteem. 

“ Ah ! ” he answered, with emotion, “ you are a good 
girl, for you have faith in others. But unhappily your sav- 
ings would be no safer with me than in your drawer. But 
I know a chest with a strong lock in which your treasure 
will run no risk.” 

“ What is that ?” 

“ The savings-bank. It is there I keep my own money ; 
why not put yours there ?” 

“ How is is it done ? ” 

“ I’ll show you whenever you wish.” 

“ Let us say to-morrow then.” 

She left William in conference with madame Jacques 
about some sacks of charcoal that she had to deliver to a 
customer, and which the good-natured porter undertook 
to carry for nothing. 

“ Adieu, then my good William,” said Fleurette, in an 
affectionate tone, “ till tomorrow.” 

As she uttered the words she saw Etienne standing in 
the street near the door of the shop, with a pale face, and 
looking at her earnestly. 

“Ah! it’s you Etienne! — you startled me — where arc 
you going ? ” 

“ I was going to see you.” 

“ Well, you will have no need nowto inquire of madame 
Beaurin, my portress, to find that I am not at home.” 

“ So I see,” replied Etienne dryly; “I was waiting till 
you should be visible.” 


ELEURETTE . 


59 


And seeing that she made several steps as if to go, he 
added : 

“ In what direction are you going ? ” 

“ In the direction of my business — and you ?” 

“ Wherever you go.” 

“ Provided I give permission.” 

“ But you will give it, Fleurette, for I have lost my head 
today, and may do something unfortunate.” 

“You have, indeed, a vicious look,” she said; adding, 
with a laugh : “ But bad characters are often treated with 
more indulgence than good ones. Don’t presume too much 
on that, though, unless — ” 

“Unless what? — what is it you propose to do?” he 
asked, with concentrated rage — “ drive me away ? So much 
the better ! ” 

Fleurette made no answer; but with the gesture of a 
queen, motioned him with her finger to take one of the two 
streets whose intersection they approached, while she, at a 
quickened pace, departed by the other. 

All Etienne’s anger vanished at the fear of never seeing 
her again. He ran after her with a repentant and submis- 
sive look, saying with tears in his eyes : 

“ I shall never again be angry with you ; only hear me, 
mademoiselle.” 

“ Speak, then,” she replied, gently. 

He walked for a time at her side in silence, seeking for 
words to touch the tyrant’s heart. 

Since the day of their first meeting Fleurette had played 
an important part in his life. 

An indolent and idle workman, she had awakened in him, 
if not a love, at least, a habit of work. She had assumed 
and maintained an ascendency over him that he had never 
been able to resist. Pie had obeyed her without question 
when she was yet a child, and now that she was a young 
woman, he obeyed her in spite of himself. 

He had long believed himself her only friend, her sole 
companion ; and, certain of her affection, as everybody as- 
sured him, and of having her for his good friend whenever 
he chose, he slept secure of his future triumph, with the 
indolent confidence which formed the basis of his character. 
But when Fleurette grew up an attractive and charming 


60 


FLEURETTE . 


young woman, and especially when others began to notice 
the fact, Etienne became uneasy. 

When Fleurette, indifferent enough to her beauty, with- 
out inviting did not rej^el admiration, Etienne grew jealous; 
and when, in spite of their long friendship, he saw himself 
no better treated than others it made 1dm furious. 

It cannot be denied, at the same time, that she felt a 
certain preference for him. People become attached to 
those on whom they have conferred benefits. She looked 
upon him somewhat in the light of a child whom she had 
brought up and instructed ; and the control which she ex- 
ercised over him flattered, if not her heart, at least her 
self-esteem. 

Though feeble and slight in frame, Etienne was of so 
violent a temper that even his more robust companions 
stood in some dread of him. But in the midst of his most 
violent paroxysms a look from Fleurette would calm him. 

Born with evil instincts, all the vices learned in the 
work-shops were congenial to him, and easily became his 
own. Listening only to his passions, he readily became a 
debauchee, a gambler, and a drunkard. The influence of 
Fleurette had rather put to sleep than eradicated his evil 
inclinations. In a word, he was only good when he could’nt 
help it. 

One Sunday, returning from the barrier with some young 
companions, in a fit of drunken rage he raised his hand 
against Fleurette, who had sharply reproved him. From that 
time, already a year ago, he had sworn never again to touch 
drink ; and, in spite of the solicitations of his comrades, he 
had kept his word. 

It was a thing so unusual among persons of his class that 
on hearing of it Fleurette was much gratified ; and one day, 
seeing him refuse wine for water, she could not help saying : 

“ It is well ; that glass of water shall be no loss to you.” 

Another day, going to visit his sister, he met a young 
wood-carver of powerful build, a sort of Hercules, in fact. 
M. Leopold was very devoted to mademoiselle Charlotte ; 
with whom, it is likely, he thought to ingratiate himself by 
making jesting remarks about Fleurette. Etienne was not 
particularly brave, but, when enraged, he was reckless. He 
sprang, like a tiger, on M. Leopold, who, taken unawares, 


FLEURETj. e. 


61 


had the greatest difficulty in defending himself ; and the 
struggle bade fair to be a bloody one, when Fleurette arrived, 
and her presence put an end to the conflict. She inquired 
the cause, which Michelette hastened to explain. 

“ Ah ! ” she said coolly, “ it was hardly worth the 
trouble ; but all the same, Etienne, these blows shall pass 
to your credit.” 

It was something like making him a promise ; but in 
spite of that, in spite of Etienne’s love, in spite of the pains 
and efforts of Michelette, who constantly pleaded her 
brother’s cause, Fleurette would give no answer, and got 
displeased when too strongly importuned. 

She consented, however, as a particular favor to grant 
her lover an audience as he walked by her side, with bowed 
head, along the street. 

At last he broke silence : 

“ You are aware, Fleurette, that when I first knew you 
I was only a working glazier. You thought that employ- 
ment too humble, for you are proud ; so I went through a 
new apprenticeship to a decorative painter. You wished it, 
and I did it for your sake.” 

“ True, but it did you no harm.” 

“ For you I quit going to the barrier, and gave up wine.” 

“ Which drank up your money,” said Fleurette, laughing, 
“ and injured your health. You are now rich and well. It 
eeems to me that the gain has all been yours.” 

“ To come to the point,” cried Etienne, impatiently, for 
he saw that the sacrifices of which he had been boasting 
had only resulted in profit to himself — “ to come to the point, 
all the young shop-girls, all those of our acquaintance, have 
some one — ” 

“ I do not deny it.” 

“ Some one whom they love, and by whom they allow 

themselves to be loved.” 

“ True.” 

“ All except you.” 

“ I acknowledge it.” 

“You are like the others, — you are free.” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Why, then, do you not choose some one ? ” 

“ Precisely because I am free.” 


62 


FLEURETTE. 


Etienne was struck by the force of this reasoning. 

The reader may be surprised that in all this conversation 
the word marriage was never spoken either by Etienne or 
Fleurette. It is all very simple. Such ideas were so for- 
eign to the usages of the world in which she lived that they 
had never reached Fleurette, for the good reason that none 
of those about her ever had them. 

“ But — but,” stammered Etienne, “ yon have given me 
your promise.” 

“ I ?— never ! ” 

“ At least you have never said no.” 

“ Very true ; but I have not said yes. Besides I do not 
know that it is necessary to choose any one.” 

“But it is/” cried Etienne, “ unless you wish to make 
yourself a subject of remark and ridicule.” 

“ Heaven forbid ! ” she said carelessly. 

“ Well, then, here am I — I who have loved you so long that 
people believe everything is arranged between us, already.” 

“ In which they are wrong.” 

“ You wish, then, to choose another ! ” exclaimed Etienne, 
whose nerves tingled and whose eyes flashed. 

“ If I did, where would be the harm ? ” 

“ Don’t say that, Fleurette ! ” he replied, in a fury. 

“Where would be the harm?” she repeated, nothing 
daunted. “ Since all the others made their choice, I have 
the same right to make mine.” 

“ You have some one in your mind, then ! ” cried Eti- 
enne, beside himself, and with clenched fists. 

Fleurette looked at him, and answered carelessly : 

“No one ; but take care — if any one does you an injury 
it will be yourself.” 

“ I ! great God ! ” he exclaimed, uttering a cry of rage. 

“ I will not be commanded,” she added haughtily ; “ and 
now, Etienne, we have said enough. You have your busi- 
ness to attend to and I have mine. Good-bye ! ” 

Etienne knew her disposition. He saw by her manner 
that it would be imprudent to insist. He went to rejoin 
Michelette at the shop in the rue Neuve- Coquenard , while 
Fleurette called on her patrons in the Breda quarter, an- 
other land of independence, where, also, marriage is re- 
garded as belonging to the realm of legend and fiction. 


FLEURETTE. 


fi3 


CHAPTER IX. 

Fleurette finished the round by calling on mademoi- 
selle Justine, who, for a fortnight past, had been busier than 
a minister of state. 

There had been such activity in her department, such an 
interchange of couriers and diplomatic notes, that she had 
hardly been able to spare a moment to speak to Fleurette, 
who, being neither curious nor talkative, was a confidant of 
the rarest and most precious type. 

Meanwhile the flower-girl accepted events as they hap- 
pened, without seeking to inquire into their causes. Never 
had there been such an abundance of flowers, and never had 
they been more beautiful and fresh. 

Three or four large bundles of camelias came every day, 
either together or separately; and, as mademoiselle Delia, 
the idol to whom so many homages were addressed, could 
wear but a single bouquet at once, the others, on the same 
day, found their way back to the flower-merchant’s shop 
through the agency of Fleurette, subject, as the exchange 
brokers say, to her commission and that of the femme de 
chambre. 

The constant going and coming caused an unusual bustle 
in the house, and gave mademoiselle Justine an increase 
both of occupation and profits ; for she had a host of other 
things to receive beside flowers ; and she made it a rule that 
every evening her accounts should be balanced up to date, 
and kept in strict order. 

“ Ah ! here you are, little one ! ” she cried, as Fleurette 
entered. “ Come to my assistance, then ; for I don’t know 
what to turn my attention to first.” And she pointed to the 
bouquets, caskets, and rich stuffs with which the boudoir 
was everywhere encumbered. 

“ In the name of goodness, what has happened ? ” cried 
Fleurette. 

“ A thing, my dear, that ought to have ruined us, but 
enriches us instead. We are no longer under the dominion 
of Mexico.” 


64 


FLEUR ETTB. 


“ What ! — the Mexican noble, so old and so rich ! ” — 
“Yes, that ingot, that gold mine, has been forced to leave 
us ! A revolution has compelled him to return to his coun- 
try, and he would have taken us with him ; but ah ! don’t 
speak to me of revolutions ! One never knows what to 
count on. Happily France shall see no more of them — that 
is settled — and for that reason we remain in Paris. Still, it 
is necessary to live and sustain one’s rank ; and my mistress 
is accustomed to spend eighty thousand francs a year.” 

“A habit, I suppose, like any other.” 

“ Certainly ; and, which once acquired, is not easily 
given up. Moreover our relations with the Mexican — ” 

“ Must have injured your mistress.” 

“ On the contrary, it has given her such eclat that appli- 
cants have poured in from every quarter ; but none of these 
possessed the required standing and solidity , and we did 
not wish to descend. In the first place there was a prince, 
apparently well enough — •” 

“A prince ! ” exclaimed Fleurette, amazed. 

“ Ah ! ” replied Justine, with a look of superiority, 
“you in your simplicity, allow yourself to be dazzled all at 
once. A prince, indeed, is brilliant, but has his inconve- 
niences — appearances to be preserved, and a wife to be kept 
in ignorance, for example ; and then, under pretence of not 
compromising himself, he economises. He doesn’t dare ruin 
himself like a private individual. So mademoiselle Delia, 
who is above all such paltry expedients said : “ However 

it’s arranged, I must have eighty thousand francs a year, as 
in the happy times of the Mexican ! ” 

“ Well ? ” 

“ Well, she has three adorers, of whom two are exchange- 
brokers; and' ever since this change of administration bou- 
quets, presents and attentions the most delicate have been not 
only doubled but tripled — in the first place, for madame, 
in the next, for myself. It is an understanding as cordial as 
it is admirable — a perfect triumph of love and friendship ! ” 
Fleurette was probably about to ask a number of ex- 
planations when the bell sounded ; and an elegantly dressed 
young man appeared, followed by a footman in livery, to 
whom he threw his greatcoat double-lined with sable, which 
the servant carried into the ante-room. The door of the 


FLEURETTE. 65 

boudoir was then closed, and the young man said, in a tone 
of authority : 

“ Inform madame.” 

“ Ah ! ” cried Justine, “Monsieur Ludovic Durussel ! ” 

Inform madame,” he repeated. 

“ Madame returned so late from the ball that she for- 
bade me to enter her apartment before noon,” replied 
Justine, seemingly a little confused at the appearance of 
the young man. But instantly recovering herself she added : 
“You know madame expects you to breakfast with her at 
half-past twelve.” 

“Yes, and I have come before the hour to give her a 
surprise ; and to replace the bracelet she lost day before 
yesterday, carry her this with my compliments, and say I 
am waiting.” 

Justine, took the casket which he handed her, and went 
out with visible embarrassment, which, however, M. Lu- 
dovic failed to observe. 

Fleurette, who remained standing near the mantel-piece, 
regarded with surprise and attention the young man who 
threw himself carelessly on a divan of blue satin. It seemed 
to her as though it were not the first time she had seen 
him. His features, young and handsome and at the same 
time effeminate, she said to herself, were of a marked type 
not altogether unknown to her. At first she searched her 
memory in vain ; but all at once she uttered an exclama- 
tion. Her recollection had came back. 

The young man turned his head and saw a young girl 
with rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes looking at him as if in 
a sort of trance. 

M. Ludovic was flattered. Her cheeks were fresh, her 
lips vermilion, her eyes animated, .and her form graceful. 
In the clearness of her complexion, and the bloom of her 
seventeen years, the young girl had decidedly the advan- 
tage of mademoiselle Delia. 

Ludovic involuntarily compared her to the bouquets 
which she held in each hand, while her crossed arms pressed 
another against her breast. She had the appearance of 
being enclosed in a frame of flowers, which presented her 
only in half-length to the eye-glass of her admirer. 

Ludovio had too much self-esteem to underrate the 


6G 


FLEURETTE. 


notice he had attracted ; and seeing that the girl’s eyes re- 
mained fixed upon him, he addressed her with a princely 
air : 

“ Decidedly, my dear child, you seem to look upon me 
not unfavorably.” 

“ No , monsieur,” stammered Fleurette, recovering her- 
self, but still somewhat confused, “you deceive yourself.” 

“Deceive myself!” cried Ludovic, mortified at the 
correction. “You seemed, at any rate, to be looking at 
me.” 

“I was only trying to recall where I had seen you be- 
fore, and just now I remember: it was on the avenue of 
the Champs- Ely sees , two and a half years ago.” 

“ You have a good memory. It was then, a circum- 
stance particularly agreeable to you ?” 

“ On the contrary, monsieur, I owe to you the first com- 
pliment that ever really wounded my heart.” 

“ You see.” said Ludovic, laughing, “ that I am already 
on the track. What were you then ? ” 

“ A flower-girl, as I am to-day. But then I was bare- 
footed and in rags.” 

“I like you better as you are to-day. Your hand 
especially,” he added, taking it in his own, “is delicate 
and well shaped.” 

“ You found it black then.” 

“ It has changed color, and I have changed my opinion. 
I particularly admire these rosy d ails,” he said, attempting 
to raise them to his lips. 

Fleurette hastily withdrew her hand. 

“ Take care, monsieur,” she said ; “ you might blacken 
your lips.” 

“ Ah ! I see the word piqued you, and you are deter- 
mined not to pardon it.” 

“ Quite the reverse. I am ready to bestow upon you 
my gratitude if you care to earn it.” 

“ How, my child ? — speak ! ” cried the young man, forc- 
ing Fleurette to a seat beside him on the divan. 

She did not wait to be urged. 

“ Monsieur Ludovic,” she began. 

“ Ah ! you know my name?” 

il I have just heard it from Justine. Three years ago,” 


FLEURETTE . 


67 


she continued with emotion, “ the day I met you in the 
Chamjys Elysees , you were with a lady who was, I believe, 
your mother.” 

“ Very possible.” 

“ And some other ladies.” 

“ Quite likely.” 

“ Who were those ladies ?” 

“ How do you expect me to remember?” 

“ Then you do not recall them ! ” she said, turning pale 
with agitation, “ I can yet see that tall lady, in the black 
dress — that tall lady, so thin and sallow — ” 

“I know several such.” 

“ And the three young ladies all dressed alike.” 

“ Wait ! the light begins to dawn ; one was — ” - 

“ A blonde,” said Fleurette. 

“ And another — ” 

“Was red-headed, and the third always laughing.” 

“ The mesdemoiselles de Keroualle, whom my mother 
wanted me to marry.” 

“ That is no concern of mine.” 

“ But it is of mine, for the danger is not over yet, 
though it has diminished.” 

“ How so ? ” 

“ The oldest one is married.” 

“ All the same to me. It is my godmother whose name 
I wish to know.” 

“ Your godmother ! ” 

“Yes, do you not remember? she who named me 
Fleurette.” 

“Well, it’s a pretty name — almost as pretty as yourself, 
and that is saying not a little.” 

“ It’s not a question of myself, monsieur,” said Fleu- 
rette, with impatience, “ but of her, my protectress — of her 
who so generously gave a gold-piece to a poor girl, to which 
she has since owed all her good fortune.” 

“ Oh ! yes, I remember ; it was a piece of folly of hers ; 
but what are you aiming at ? — what is it you wish to ask? ” 

“ Her name, monsieur — the name of this noble young 
lady, so charming and soTovely ! — her name, monsieur,” re- 
peated Fleurette, with a supplicating voice — “ speak, 
speak ! ” 


68 


FLEURETTE. 


“Clotilde de Keroualle,” said Ludovic, “the cousin of 
the other young ladies, an .orphan without fortune, the 
Cinderella of the house.” 

“Where does she live — is she in Paris ?” 

“No — at the further end of Brittany, where her aunt, 
the marquise, thinks she can live more cheaply than in the 
capital ; which is true, and with more ennui besides. It’s 
a year since I have heard of these ladies, and, unless some 
family matter brings them back they are likely to live and 
die, the mother in her old chdteau , and the daughters in 
some convent in the neighborhood.” 

“ Ah ! this chdteau — if I could only go there, though it 
were on foot ! ” 

“ Why — what do you want of them ? ” 

She made no answer. 

“ For what good ? ” she said to herself ; “he would not 
understand me.” 

“ Well, if you only wish to send your compliments as 
god-daughter why not send them in a letter? ” 

“ Alas ! I do not know how to write ! ” she answered, 
with distress. 

“ W ait a moment,” said Ludovic, detaining her on the 
divan from which she was in the act of rising ; « now that 
I have answered all your questions, it’s my turn.” 

“You will not have time, monsieur, for see, mademoi- 
selle Justine is coming.” 

J ustine came back entirely self-possessed, saying with a 
hearty laugh : 

“ I have kept monsieur waiting, for which I ask his par- 
don. I waited ten minutes at madame’s door, not ventur- 
ing to enter, as long as I thought I heard her sleeping ; but 
Larose has just told me she has gone out.” 

“ Gone out at this hour ! ” said Ludovic astonished. 

“Yes, monsieur. I thought him joking, at first; but it 
seems madame’s mother has been taken suddenly ill, and 
madame went in great haste.” 

“Very well,” returned Ludovic, without further troub- 
ling himself about his mother-in-law's indisposition. I can 
wait.” 

Justine looked at him surprised. 

“ I can wait,” he repeated, with a glance at Fleurette. 


FLEURETTE . 


69 


Then addressing Justine : 

“ Tell my servants they can go ; I shall not need them.” 

Justine hurried out, saying to herself: 

She must be with Heloise. I’ll go there and tell her.” 

An instant after was heard the rumbling of a carriage, 
as it drove away ; and Ludovic, approaching Fleurette, con- 
templated her a moment in silence, and with a sort of im- 
pertinent admiration. 

“ Do you know, little one, that you are really very 
amusing and very pretty ? It is I who tell you so.” 

“ For which I thank you. “ she replied coolly, “ but I 
knew it already.” 

“ That proves,” he continued with a significant look — 
“ that proves that if you were willing — ” 

He stopped, as if awaiting her answer ; but she made 
none. 

“ Do you understand me ? ” 

“ Perfectly.” 

“If you were willing, then — ” he repeated slowly. 

“Yes,” said Fleurette, laughing, “but I am not will- 
ing. ’ 

“ You would no longer sell bouquets,” continued Ludo- 
vic, finishing his sentence. 

“ Everyone to his taste ; I prefer to sell bouquets.” 

“ So we aspire to lofty sentiments ! ” said Ludovic, 
ironically. 

“ I ? ” replied Fleurette, shrugging her shoulders. 
“Lofty sentiments are for great ladies, but we — ” 

“ Then for what are you waiting to decide you ?” 

“ My will, my idea, my affection.” 

“ Good ! ” cried Ludovic with earnestness — “ and this 
idea— this affection — what is needed to inspire it? ” 

“ One thing only.” 

“ What?”' 

“ To please me!” 

Far from being disconcerted by this answer Ludovic in- 
terpreted it in the sense most flattering to his self-esteem. 
He only saw in it an indirect confession. 

“I understand,” he said, complacently stroking his 
moustache ; “ you prefer not to consent on the spot, but to 
be importuned. Very well — importuned you shall be.” 


70 


FLEURETTE . 


Fleur ette made no reply. 

“ I beseeck you, then, with importunity, with urgency, 
to tell me what day I may expect you to love me ! ” 

Fleurette, without showing the least resentment, raised 
her pretty eyes and said laughingly : 

“ I shall not say never , for it is not well to discourage 
anyone ; but my answer is, not yet.” 

“ I see,” said the young man, seeking to conceal his dis- 
appointment under a smile, “ you have decidedly not forgot- 
ten our first meeting, and still bear malice.” 

“ So little, monsieur, that before we part I wish to ren- 
der you a service.” 

“ How very queer you are ! — but, go on.” 

“ Well, monsieur, mention to no one what I tell you, 
but, if you choose, profit by it : you are imposed upon 
here.” 

“ Indeed ! ” 

“ I assure you of it. There are two others, besides 
yourself, from whom bouquets are accepted.” 

“ That does not distress me,” he replied coolly. 

There is a young unknown, younger and prettier than 
mademoiselle Delia, who would speedily eclipse her, if one 
took the trouble to bring her out.” 

Fleurette pretended not to understand, and turned to 
go. 

At the same instant the door opened and mademoiselle 
Delia entered in elegant morning costume. She had just 
returned from an excursion — from a rural breakfast pro- 
bably — for her cheeks bore the rich color given by country 
air. She was accompanied, moreover, by a charming young 
man, not one of the triumvirate. 

“Ah!” cried' -mademoiselle Delia, seeing Ludovic — 
“ ah ! you have been waiting for me, I see ! — I beseech your 
pardon, I have just come from the milliner’s, and met Saint- 
Esteve, my music-teacher, by the way, whom I have the 
joleasure of presenting to you. He gave me his arm home, 
this being the day for my lesson.” 

“And that I may not hinder you,” said Ludovic, “I 
shall take my leave. But how is madame, your mother ? ” 

“ Strong as the Pont-Neuf, my dear ; but you have a 
disturbed look.” 


FLUERETTE. 


71 


“ Because of not being able to breakfast with you. I 
have a business engagement, and have only come to excuse 
myself.” 

“How provoking!” replied Delia. “We shall see you 
this evening, I suppose ? ” 

“ Good morning, little one,” she said to Fleurette, with- 
out waiting for Ludovic’s answer; “where is Justine, and 
why is she not here when I come ? ” 

“ She has probably gone to see your mother whom she 
believed sick,” replied Ludovic ; “ she is so devoted to the 
family ! ” 

“ So she is,” replied Delia naively ; “but I must go and 
take my lesson. Are you coming, Saint-Esteve ? ” 

And with a wave of her hand to Ludovic : 

“ Till this evening, my dear ! ” 

Delia ended the scene by this brilliant stroke, and dis- 
appeared, followed by her music-teacher. 

Ludovic, concealing his chagrin as best he could, has- 
tened to the door of the ante-room, but at the moment of 
putting his hand to the crystal knob, he stopped. 

“ Fleurette,” he cried, with warmth, “ say but a word, 
and to-morrow you take Delia’s place ; and my carriage, 
my horses, my love, and a new and splendid establishment 
are yours! ” 

She answered with a burst of laughter. 

“What’s the matter?” he said, astonished. 

“ Only this, monsieur ; that if mademoiselle Delia heard 
you I should lose the custom of her house.” 

“ Adieu ! ” cried Ludovic, enraged, aud rushing into the 
ante-room. 

“Adieu ! ” returned Fleurette. 

She dropped back on the sofa, and remained for a few 
minutes buried in reflection — saying, as she raised her head : 

“ After all, I think it would be easier to love Etienne.” 


72 


FLEURETTE. 


CHAPTER X. 

The next day was Sunday ; the only day, as William 
had said, on which the savings bank was kept open for the 
benefit of the working class, who had thus all the week in 
which to lay up their savings, and Sunday to deposit them. 

William had promised to call for Fleurette at noon. 
Like all industrious people she was an early riser ; but to- 
day being Sunday, and the day on which she was to secure 
her little fortune by putting it in a place of safety, it was a 
special holiday. So it was nearly nine o’clock, and Fleu- 
rette was still in bed. It was the first time such a thing 
had happened. 

She thought of her prospects, which seemed in every 
way encouraging, and of the singular propositions made to 
her within the last few days, in which she saw nothing to 
cause alarm. 

The offer of Ludovic had not dazzled her, nor had 
Etienne’s despair moved her. 

Neither supplicant had caused her heart to beat ; but it 
must be confessed that neither had excited her indignation; 
and, tested by her moral standard, their proposals were 
open to but one objection — that of not pleasing her. 

But, as we hinted at the end of the last chapter, com- 
pletely ignorant as she was of love, a secret instinct, not 
readily deceived, told her that Etienne cherished for her a 
sincere affection, and that Ludovic did not; that the gross 
and jealous tenderness of the one had something flattering 
in it, while the more polished protestations of the other 
were humiliating. As to William, the idea of his loving 
her, or that his friendship for her bore any resemblance to 
such a feeling, never entered her mind. 

She was turning over all these thoughts in her heart, 
or rather in her head, when she heard a knock at her door. 

Madame Beaurin was the only one privileged to mount 
to the fifth-floor, and she came rarely except on Sundays, 


FLEURETTE . 


73 


when she volunteered to carry up Fleurette’s breakfast, 
composed of a roll and a glass of milk. 

“ Come in ! ” she cried, without rising. 

The invitation was all the more easily to be complied 
with that the key was always in the lock, — so complete 
was the security afforded to lodgers in the house of M. 
Ducresson, or rather that of madame Beaurin, and so great 
was Fleurette’s confidence in her neighbors. 

The door not opening, 

“ Come in,” repeated Fleurette. 

She heard a heavy step, and uttered a cry. Etienne 
stood in the middle of the room. 

He had closed the door, and was looking about him 
with a troubled and undecided air. 

“ You, Etienne ! ” she cried, “ in my room at this hour ! 
— what is it you want ?” 

He made no answer, but pressed his hand to his fore- 
head. 

“ Answer ! — what has brought you here ? ” 

“ I do not know,” he replied, after a moment’s hesitation. 
Then turning his eyes in the direction of the young girl, he 
added; “Yes, I know well enough, Mademoiselle Fleu- 
rett.” 

“ Speak then, and go.” 

“ To speak is hard — and to go still harder — for I can- 
not walk very well,” he replied, reeling, and falling into one 
of the two chairs that furnished the apartment. 

He was drunk. 

Fleurette enveloped herself in the bed clothing, and said 
with a look of contempt : 

“ You swore to me never to drink again.” 

“ True.” 

“And yet you have just been drinking.” 

“Yes — on your account — on your account alone — and 
not enough, unfortunately — I have a mind to go back to 
it.” 

“ It’s the best thing you can do — go ! ” 

“ Ho,” he said, after a little reflection — “ having com- 
mitted a fault I must drink — or rather, having drunk, I 
mus t — no ! ” he cried, checking himself — “ I’m all confused 
— stay,” making an effort to collect his thoughts — “ I’m 


74 


FLEURETTE. 


going to tell you all, and you will see — you will admit, for 
you are just and reasonable, that it must be — that — that 
there is no way now — for it not to be. Zounds ! ” lie cried, 
striking the table with violence, “ it shall be ; it’s a ques- 
tion of my honor, for one is either an honest man or he is 
not, and I am one ! I am one ! ” he repeated impetuously. 

Fleurette saw that he was trying to excite himself, and 
thus. give himself the courage which he lacked, and that, in 
her perplexing situation, gentleness would be of more avail 
than anger. 

“Yes, Etienne,” she said, “you are an honest man.” 

“Am I not?” he exclaimed with heat. 

“ You always have been.” 

“ Except yesterday — but it was not my fault. You see 
it was mademoiselle Charlotte, and Pierre, and the rest of 
them that pushed me on to it. They are false friends.” 

“ But I, Etienne, am your true friend.” 

“Yes, you, Fleurette,” he continued with feeling — 
“and that is why — ” 

“ What were you going to say ? ” 

“ I thought you knew it.” 

“ Not at all,” she answered, by degrees regaining con- 
fidence. 

“ Yesterday— was it yesterday ? — yes — just after leaving 
you, I went to the shop to see my sister, Michelette.” 

“ And you saw her ? ” 

“ No, she was not there, but Charlotte and Pierre, and 
the rest were.” 

“ Well ? ” 

“Well, I hardly know how it came about. They called 
me the faithful shepherd — the forlorn swain — in a word they 
laughed at me, and no one likes that. They all said,” he 
cried, with redoubled anger, “ that you cared nothing for 
me, Fleurette, and that you never would ! ” 

“ Who knows ? ” 

“Yes, ‘what do you know about it?’ I said to them, 
‘ she shall be mine— I’m sure of it ! ’ You should have heard 
their shouts of laughter, as they asked mockingly, ‘ when? 
when? ’ These words, I hear them yet, kept ringina* in mv 
ears — ‘ when ? when ? ’ ” 

“You should have paid no heed to them.” 


FLEURETTE. 


75 


“I had not the strength for that. My brain was on fire, 
and my heart filled with rage. But I soon found a way to 
close their mouths and confound them in return.” 

“ How was that?” asked Fleurette, uneasily. 

“ ‘ Ah ! ’ I answered, with a meaning look, 4 you ask me 
when ? when ? — you are too late askhig the question .’ ” 

“ You said that ! ” exclaimed Fleurette indignantly. 

“ Yes, and I did well. If you had only seen how taken 
aback they were ! It was my turn to laugh. Then they in- 
sisted that I should raise my hand and swear — ” 

“ And you did so ? ” 

“ I had to do it — there was no backing out.” 

“ Then you are a villain ! ” 

“ Have I said to the contrary ? — You should have seen 
how they felicitated me, Charlotte above all — how they con- 
gratulated me on my triumph ! ” 

“ But it was an infamous lie ! ” 

“ Certainly — so it becomes necessary to make it not one. 
That’s what I have been saying to myself all morning, I am 
an honest man,” he repeated, trying to rise, “and since I 
have sworn to it, it is necessary that it should be made true.” 
And he advanced towards Fleurette. 

“ Etienne ! ” she cried, “ if you approach another step I 
shall never see you again while I live ! ” 

“I understand,” he answered, stopping; “it’s because 
I’m drunk — but, you see, without those little glasses of 
brandy, I should never have dared to come here and look 
you in the face — and — and it would only have taken a few 
more to so effect my sight that I wouldn’t have been able to 
recognize you.” 

“You do recognize me then?” said Fleurette, with a 
look before which he quailed — “ you recognize the girl who 
bestowed charity upon you — who shared with you the little 
she possessed, and whom you have come here to rob ! ” 

“ I ! ” he replied, with emotion. 

“You recognize her whom you swore to protect and de- 
fend, and whom you have just now attacked ! ” 

“ Oh ! no, mam’zelle Fleurette ! ” 

“You recognize her who has always been your friend, 
and from whom you would snatch by force the position she 
might have one day given you openly and freely ! ” 


76 


FLEURETTE . 


“No ! no ! never! ” he exclaimed, bowing his head, and 
extending his hands beseechingly. “ Pardon, mam’zelle, 
pardon ! ” 

“ I shall grant it,” she replied with dignity, “ if you de- 
serve it — if you obey me.” 

“ Always! ” 

First, then, open the door.” 

He went with a firm step, for he was already more than 
half sobered, and remained standing on the threshold. 

“Now go,” she said. 

“ Yes, Fleurette.” 

“ Return home.” 

“Yes, Fleurette.” 

“ And do not attempt to see me again to-day.” 

“ You think— ” 

“ It is my w r ish.” 

“I shall obey.” 

“Wait for me day after to-morrow at Michelette’s.” 

“ And then you will pardon me ? ” 

“We shall see.” 

“Ah!” he cried, making a step as if to return, “you 
have promised — ” 

“Nothing, — if you begin by disobeying.” 

“ It is just,” he said, departing at once. And Fleurette 
soon heard the sound of his footsteps gradually growing 
fainter, as he descended the stairs. 

Springing from her bed, she closed and locked the door, 
and hastened to dress. 


CHAPTER XI. 

According to agreement William arrived exactly at 
noon. Fleurette was ready. Her savings, which, for fear 
of being mistaken, she had counted over three or four times, 
amounted to eight hundred and thirty-two francs. They 
started together for the savings-bank. 

On the way she told him her adventures of the morning 


FLEURETTE. 


77 


and of the day before, in detail and without withholding 
anything, laying before him, of her own accord and in the 
most artless manner, what she would never have thought of 
confiding to Ludovic or to Etienne, and showing him her 
friendship, her confidence, her entire soul. 

“ What you tell me is serious,” said he, shaking his head. 

“ And why,” replied she, laughing, “ since Etienne obeyed, 
and instantly left ? ” 

“Yes; but yesterday, before those envious and talkative 
girls and their lovers, all working people of the quarter — ” 

“ It isn’t true ! ” 

“But if they believe it?” 

“ Well, what can I do ? ” 

“ But your reputation, Fleurette — ” 

“ My reputation ! ” she exclaimed, shrugging her 
shoulders, “ Y, Fleurette , the flower-girl, the daughter of the 
people, am 1 alone to have one? And if I have one who 
will believe it, or trouble himself about it ? ” 

“Why, your friends first.” 

“My friends! I have only one, William — yourself. 
And as you know the truth, and do not doubt me, it matters 
little to me what others may think.” 

“ Certainly ; but a scandal like this, although false greatly 
injures a young girl. And if you wished to marry — ” 

“ I marry ! ” said she, bursting into laughter, “ what’s 
the good?” 

“ What good! ” said William, astonished. “You are a 
singular girl, Fleurette, and your ideas are still more singular.” 

“ My ideas. I haven’t any; and I have never given what 
you mention to me, a single thought.” 

“ Others may think for you. A husband may present 
himself.” 

« A husband ! who would ever wish to marry me. Un- 
less,” said she, “ it was for these eight hundred francs. 
True,” she continued, after a moment’s reflection, “ I did 
not think of that inducement. W ell, my resolution is taken ; 
that is one reason the more why I should never think of it.” 

William, who was going to speak, stopped himself at 
these words, and kept silent. 

“ I am right, am I not ? ” she went on, “ and you approve 
my course ? ” 


78 


FLEURETTE. 


“ Certainly,” coldly responded the honest porter. 

They had by this time arrived at the savings-bank. 
Fleurette deposited her money and received her bank-book ; 
but, to her great chagrin, William did not return with her. 
He had an affair which called him to another quarter. 
Alone, she walked along the boulevards, with admiring, 
rather than envious, eyes turned upon the shops full of beau- 
tiful clothing and jewelry ; for she never expected the im- 
possible, and the idea of her ever possessing such treasures 
never occurred to her. 

She returned home early ; and, after having lit her small 
lamp as usual, was astonished at seeing a suj^erb bouquet in 
a glass of water on her mantel-piece, not a second-hand 
bouquet, but a new one made expressly for herself. 

“ What a singular idea,” she thought, “ to send me, a 
flower-girl, such a bouquet ! ” 

But on looking at it closer she saw lying beside it a little 
paste-board box that she hastened to open, and which con- 
tained a very pretty gold brooch. 

How to explain such a present ? Who sent it to her ? 
It couldn’t have been either her friend William, or her lover 
Etienne ; they were both too poor. Could it be M. Ludovic ? 
— but the conversation of yesterday was not very encourag- 
ing to him, she had not been sufficiently polite for him to 
seek to recall himself to her recollection by such a souvenir. 
Nor could it be any of the other young gentlemen she had 
met at mademoiselle Delia’s or at the other houses in the 
quarter. 

“ Let us wait,” said she, “ the mysterious suitor will 
make himself known.” 

She was alone, and at home, so nothing prevented her 
from putting on the brooch before the little gilt-framed glass 
which decorated her mantel-piece. 

Gold and jewels are so easily carried that everyone likes 
them. It seems, the very first time we adorn ourselves with 
either, as if we had been in the habit of doing so all our 
lives. 

Fleurette was charmed with herself, and immediately 
put on the airs of a great lady. She took off her new orna- 
ment merely to have the pleasure of putting it on again ; 
and the next morning she was already decorated with it 


FLEURETTE. 79 

when madame Beaurin, under I know not what pretext, 
entered her room. 

She ought to know the donor of this brilliant gift ; as 
she alone had the key of Fleurette’s room, during the latter’s 
absence, and was the only one who could have placed the 
bouquet and jewelry there. But she affected a surprise, 
manifested by wondering exclamations. 

“ However,” she said, “ I doubt, Mademoiselle Fleurette 
(it w r as the first time she had ever called her mademoiselle), 
very much whether you will remain here long, luckily for 
me who will no longer have to mount this eternal fifth flight.” 

“ Why ? ” demanded Fleurette. 

lC Because mademoiselle is at the age and in the position 
when each month one descends a story, and you will soon 
be on the first floor like mademoiselle Delia.” 

At that name Fleurette reddened, and with an involun- 
tary movement she carried her hand rapidly to the brooch, 
which she detached from her dress and threw on the mantel, 
madame Beaurin did not seem to notice the action. 

Fleurette then hastened down stairs and went out. She 
looked about, at the corner, and did not see William at his 
usual post. He had not yet risen, .which was very extraor- 
dinary, or else he was already at work. 

She commenced her own with her usual activity. Dur- 
ing the day she thought sometimes of Etienne, but oftener 
of the mysterious suitor, who had pleased her by exciting 
her curiosity. The unknown has a great charm for every 
imagination, and especially for that of a young girl. 

In the evening, on entering her room, her first act was 
to glance at yesterday’s gift. A new surprise ! Another 
"bouquet ; and beside it a red morocco box. On opening the 
latter she discovered a small watch and chain of gold. 

If yesterday Fleurette had been happy at receiving a 
gift which was altogether a superfluous luxury, how much 
more pleased was she with a piece of jewelry which, besides 
its splendor and elegance, was to her an absolute necessity. 
A watch was indispensable in her business, and twenty times 
a day, she regretted being without one. She examined this 
one again and again, and her admiration and delight were 
redoubled on perceiving that it was a repeater. 

At last the hour she had fixed upon for retiring arrived, 


80 


FLEURETTE. 


and, exact to the minute, there arose a continuous chime of 
bells in the small chamber of the young girl. She fell asleep 
while; thinking who could be the sender of the present. She 
could not divine who it was, but was very sure that there 
was such an air of gallantry, opportuneness, and delicacy 
about the whole transaction that it excluded the possibility 
of its being M. Ludovic. 

The next morning, having arisen at an early hour, before 
going out she cast a parting glance at her watch. She was 
unable to resist the desire she felt to put the chain around 
her neck. It produced such a fine effect over her black me- 
rino dress that it was impossible for her to take it off. So 
she kept it on ; remembering, besides, that she had so many 
rounds to make during the day that she would be constantly 
in need of knowing the time. 

She wished in the first place to relate her adventure, 
and show her watch, to William and ask his advice ; but to 
day, also, the porter was not at his post, and madame 
Jacques, the char-woman, gave Fleurette to understand that 
he had accepted a contract to saw several hundred cart-loads 
of wood, and that this important work would detain him 
for some days at I know not what hotel of the faubourg 
Saint Germain. 

Forced for the present to do without the advice of this 
prudent and devoted friend, Fleurette was slowly descend- 
ing th a faubourg Montmartre , when she heard her name 
pronounced by a young and vibrating voice which was well 
known to her. It was Charlotte, who accosted her without 
ceremony. 

“ Stop, my dear Fleurette, that I may pay you my com- 
pliments ! ” 

“ Upon what ?” 

“ It seems that you have decided to be no longer a prude, 
or a shrew : you have done well, it was duplicity and time 
lost. That is what every one said at the shop, where we all 
love you, myself to commence with.” 

“ You are very good.” 

“ Respecting the one you have chosen, one might do 
better ; but Etienne is not bad. He has loved you for a 
long time ; he is the brother of a friend ; and if it were not 
for the violent tempers to which he is subject — ” 


FLEURETTE. 


81 


All this had been delivered with such great volubility 
that Fleurette had not as yet been able to get in a word. 
She could see but one way to arrest the torrent that threat- 
ened to overwhelm her ; she put her hand over the mouth 
of Charlotte who almost suffocated from want of air, fell to 
coughing ; and Fleurette took advantage of this respite to 
say : 

“ Very well, dear friend, very well. I thank you for the 
interest you take in my affairs ; but it is useless, as Etienne 
is nothing to me, absolutely nothing, and his good or bad 
qualities are entirely indifferent to me.” 

“ Indeed ! ” said Charlotte, shrugging her shoulders. 
“ Surely you are not going to deny it. Etienne himself has 
told us — ” 

“ A lie” cried Fleurette, “ a lie which you should not 
have believed, and which I defy anyone to prove.” 

“ Listen, dear friend,” said Charlotte, with an air of lofty 
composure, “ that which is done is done ; there is no getting 
over that. That you should be sorry now and find, as I 
just said, that you could have made a better choice, is only 
natural and is the opinion of every one. With your youth, 
looks, and figure you certainly ought to be able to find some 
one very fine, very genteel, and I think that you like that 
sort, though you don’t say so. Isn’t that your idea? Ac- 
knowledge it frankly; you know us, and that we will be- 
mute. One owes this much to friends, upon condition of a 
return of confidences.” 

“ But no ! ” cried Fleurette, angrily, “ I repeat, I swear 
that Etienne has never been anything to me, and I beg you 
and the girls to say so, as I do, loudly and everywhere.” 

“ Very convenient,” repeated Charlotte, coolly. “ After 
that you may as well confess it. Heavens ! you will find 
that to be much worse. But if you have found a better one 
it is all very simple.” 

“ I ? ” said Fleurette, indignantly. 

“ Certainly. And I see something that goes to prove it,” 
said Charlotte, casting a malignant look at the gold chain 
Fleurette wore around her neck and the watch in her belt. 
“ It is good taste, rich and distinguished. I have always 
wished just such an one — and I understand very well, my 
dear.” she continued, with an envious laugh, “ that, you do 

6 


82 


FLEURETTE. 


not wish to sacrifice or break chains like these for Etienne’s 
sake. We would all choose as you have done. Adieu!” 
she called out, disengaging her hands from Fleurette’s, who 
wished to detain her and justify herself. “Adieu, I haven’t 
time to stop longer, I would be late for the shop. My re- 
gards to your new admirer. You will present him to us, 
will you not V ” 

She had already turned the corner of the street, while 
Fleurette remained motionless in the same spot, but, grad- 
ually returning to herself, the latter recovered her sangfroid 
and murmured : 

“ I will not let it pass off thus. I care little for the 
opinion of these girls, but I do care for the truth, and they 
shall know it ” 

Day before yesterday she had given Etienne an appoint- 
ment at Michelettes ; she ran there. But on this day the 
chances were against Fleurette. Michelette had risen at an 
early hour, an unusual thing, and had already gone to the 
shop. She resolved to follow her there. 

She arrived in the rue Neuve — Coquenard , climbed the 
stairs, and hear a greatd noise. The half-opened door of the 
shop allowed the voices of men and women to be distinguish- 
ed, and, besides, they were so loud that even with the door 
shut not a word would have been lost. She heard her own 
name pronounced, and stopped and listened. 

“Yes, ) r es,” said one of the girls, “ Fleurette, without 
letting it appear, was the worst coquette of us all, and that 
is not a little to say ! ” 

“ It is not true” cried Michelette. I leave it to Char- 
lotte, herself, who has never been able to find anything 
against her.” 

“ 1 ! ” replied Charlotte, ” I do not wish to speak, because 
since morning I know certain things about Fleurette which 
delicacy prevents my mentioning.” 

“ What ? ” cried Etienne, who was seated near his sister, 
and whose voice sounded above all the others. “ What are 
those things which delicacy prevents your revealing ? ” 

“ It is to you, least of all, I would say them ; ” replied 
Charlotte, in an affected tone, “ for you, better than any 
one, know what ought to be thought of Fleurette’s virtue. ” 

“ And if you are deceived,” responded Etienne, turning 


FLEURETTE. 83 

pale and raising his voice, “ if Fleurette is still the most 
honest girl of yon all ? ” 

A prolonged shout of laughter answered this audacious 
proposition. 

“ And that which you told us the other day? ” asked Leo- 
pold. 

“ And which you swore to ! ” added Pierre. 

“ If I was boasting,” responded Etienne, “ if I lied ?” 

“You!” 

“ Yes, I ! ” 

Every one cried out at the same time, and Fleurette stood 
outside, near the door, her heart beating rapidly, amazed at 
hearing Etienne make, of his own accord, such an avowal. 

“Yes,” continued Etienne forcibly, “it was all an inven- 
tion of mine. She has accorded me nothing, I have obtain- 
ed nothing. Treat me as you wish. I prefer drawing your 
contempt upon myself, rather than being unjust to her.” 

“ Ah ! who can tell but what you are lying again, now ? ” 
cried Leopold. 

“ Who can tell ? ” responded Etienne, his lips pale with 
anger. “ I ! who will kill the first who doubts my word ; 
you, to commence with, Leopold ! ” 

At these words a great tumult arose in the shop. Leo- 
pold and Etienne wished to go out, but the men and women, 
Michelette among the first, threw themselves before them to 
prevent it ; and, fearing to be surprised spying and listening 
at the door, Fleurette hastened down the stairs into the 
court without having been jjerceived. 


CHAPTER XII 

Never before had Fleurette been so favorably inclined to- 
wards Etienne. Though delicacy of sentiment was almost 
a stranger to him, though it was difficult for him to appreci- 
ate in comparison with other kinds, of courage, there was 
something heroic in this. A secret instinct told her that to 


84 


FLEURETTE. 


accuse himself thus before the others, not to recoil before 
shame, to brave contempt in order to render justice to a 
poor girl, was an action so noble, so sublime, that it could 
only proceed from the highest virtue or the most ardent 
love. On this occasion, unfortunately, the only motive that 
directed Etienne was to reconquer Fleurette affection, which 
he had lost. What mattered it ? It was a noble action of 
which love was the cause, and which should go to his credit. 

Fleurette waited till evening, and when she supposed 
that Michelette had gone home she went to see her to talk 
with her of her brother. 

She mounted to the fifth floor where Michelette resided 
and at the moment she knocked at the latter’s door she 
heard a sound within which made her presume that Mich- 
elette was at home. 

It was she, in fact, who opened the door, and she had a 
troubled and uneasy air which alarmed Fleurette. 

“What is the matter?” she asked, dropping into a chair 
in a sort of entry which led into Michelette’s room. 

“ My brother has been beaten on your account.” 

“ How is that ? ” 

“ You do not know what occurred this morning at the 
shop ?” 

“ Yes, indeed.” And she related all that she had heard 
and been a witness of without herself being seen. 

“You know, in reality, little or nothing,” cried Michel- 
ette. “ You left at the moment when everyone was trying to 
separate them ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ And then Charlotte, to appease my brother’s anger, or 
rather to increase it, said that he was very wrong to mix 
himself up in such a quarrel or to trouble himself about 
you ; that you cared nothing for him and were in love with 
another, and had acknowledged it to her this very morn- 
ing.” 

“ I ! ” cried Fleurette, indignantly. 

“ She had promised, it is true, to keep silence ; but in 
face of the threatened fight between my brother Etienne and 
Leopold, whom she loved, she would speak the truth to pre- 
vent a great evil. My brother, foaming with rage, repeated : 
‘ It is not true ! it is not true, Fleurette loves nobody — ’ 


FLEURETTE. 


85 


‘ Ah ! you don’t believe it,’ continued Charlote, 4 1 tell you 
that she does love somebody who is very rich and has made 
her magnificent presents ; for example, a gold watch and chain 
that she wore this morning — ’ “ Ah ! ” cried Michelette, in 
the midst of her recital, and looking at Fleurette’s waist, 
44 she was right. That watch ! that chain ! ” 

44 No, no!” quickly said Fleurette, “I will explain it all 
to you later. Go on, finish ! ” 

“Well,” tremblingly pursued Michelette, “my brother, 
on hearing this, rushed at Charlotte with such fury that they 
believed he was going to kill her. Leopold, holding a 
cane in his hand, threw himself before her. My brother 
seized the foreman’s stick, and then we all drew back fright- 
ened. My brother is very good at fencing, but he was so 
beside himself that he struck blindly and at hazard, and 
Leopold, who was cooler, parried all his blows, and in return 
gave him one on the arm, which knocked him down and dis- 
armed him, and they believe his arm is broken.” 

Fleurette uttered a cry : “ And you have abandoned 
him ? ” 

“ No, he had just strength enough to enable him to come 
here.” 

“ He is here, then ?” cried Fleurette. 

“Yes, in my room. He suffers very much, but I am 
alone and dare not leave him to seek a surgeon, for if during 
that time he should grow worse — ” 

44 Am I not here ? ” said Fleurette, “Go get assistance, 
and I will remain with him as long as is necessary.” 

44 Thanks, thanks ! ” said Michellette, rushing out, “ I 
will return as quickly as possible.” 

Fleurette entered the sick-room, and was greeted with a 
joyous cry : 

44 It is you, Fleurette, whom I see again. — If you knew — ” 

“ I know all you have done for me, and came to thank 
you.” And seeing the mortal pallor produced by the in- 
tense pain his arm caused him, she continued : “I am not 
ungrateful, Etienne, believe me ; and I will do anything I 
can to prove it.” 

44 Only a word, one word. What Charlotte said is not 
true, is it ? — you do not love any other ? ” 

44 No, I swear it to you ? ” 


86 


FLEURETTE. 


“ And you haven’t received that watch or chain she 
spoke of — Ah ! ” said he wildly, “ what do I see ? you have 
deceived me.” 

And his cheeks and lips, before pale became purple ; the 
blood rushed to his head with such violence that Fleurette 
became frightened and feared congestion. She hastened to 
bathe his forehead and temples with cold water, aijd while 
thus occupied she explained to him in broken sentence how 
she had received these presents. 

“ I swear that I do not even know who sent them ! ” 

“ But Charlotte and the other girls will never believe it. 
They are not even persuaded — though I have told them 
the truth.” 

“ Never mind, Etienne, that was a noble action of yours.” 

“ They think I have accused myself in order to clear you, 
and they still pretend to think you are mine which is not 
true. It is that which enrages me, makes me furious ! ” 

“ Because your generosity has been useless ? you de- 
ceive yourself, for I shall never forget it ; and you shall see, 
Etienne, if I am not grateful and if I do not repay you.” 

“ Ah ! if that could be,” said he joyfully ; but his eyes 
returned anew to the chain, and he cried with despair : “ but 
this unknown nobleman who loves you and makes you such 
presents, will carry all against me.” 

“ Don’t believe it.” 

“ The rich gentleman, ” said he, shaking his head,“ is al- 
ways preferred to the poor workingman.” 

“ Not by me ; you don’t know me.” 

“ Well ! prove that y ou pardon me ; and grant me, who 
am unhappy, who suffer, what you have refused to my 
love.” 

“ Etienne ! Etienne ! what are you now asking of me ? ” 

“ Ah ! you said that you were generous, grateful — it is 
not true.” 

“ I am, more so than you think.” 

‘You will not renounce your grand gentleman.” 

Yes, indeed — ” 

“You are still thinking of him — you know him — you 
have seen him — ” 

“No, I swear it, and I will give you 6very proof.” 

“I accept, and only demand one; which you will be 


FLEURETTE. 87 

unable to refuse me, unless you enjoy the troubles I am 
now enduring.” 

“I? Never ! ” 

“ Then say yes, say it,” he repeated, “ say it.” 

Troubled, beside herself, she did not respond. 

“ Well, ” continued Etienne warmly, if you do not wish 
to speak give me your hand, let me take it, that will mean 
you consent. Ah ! ” cried he seizing it, “ it is promised, it 
is sworn. And Fleurette never breaks her word ! ” 

The door opened. Michelette entered followed by M. 
Desroches, a young surgeon, who was little known except- 
ing by the poor of his quarter. While awaiting reputation 
he possessed talent and lavished a care and assiduity on 
his patients which later in life, when fashion and fortune 
had arrived, he would not have the time to give them. 

He examined Etienne’s arm attentively. He saw that 
it was not broken ; the blow, a very violent one, extending 
to the extremity of the elbow, had caused a complete dis- 
location and displacement of the shoulder. The pain had 
been so great that Etienne’s stick had instantly dropped from 
his paralyzed hand. An able man, and one who thoroughly 
understood his profession, M. Desroches did not hesitate 
an instant. Without consulting his patient he seized the lat- 
ter’s arm and with equal address and strength he made it re- 
enter its socket. The pain was so great that Etienne was 
unable to restrain one or two piercing cries. 

“ Courage ! ” said Fleurette to him. 

He remained silent, overcome with pain, and tried un- 
successfully to force as mile. 

“Now,” said the doctor, “try and move your arm.” 

Etienne made the attempt, but stopped, saying : 

“ It hurts me too much.” 

“No matter it must be done.” 

That was not Etienne’s opinion, to whom anger gave 
strength and courage, but now the anger had passed away, 
and pain reigned in its stead, and if Fleurette had not been 
there he would probably have sent the doctor away. The 
latter, having assured himself by the movements of the 
sufferer that the dislocation was reduced, rendered the arm 
immovable by a bandage artistically tied, and forbade his 
patient to use it for six or seven days. 


88 


FLEURETTE. 


“ Remain all that time without moving my arm ! ” cried 
Etienne ; “ what will my employer say? ” 

“ He must do like yourself,” said Michelette, “ have pa- 
tience.” 

“ But I shall die of ennui ! ” 

“ Who knows,” said Fleurette, smiling, “ perhaps some 
one will come to see you.” 

And the invalid consoled by this hope became resigned . 
to his condition. 

On her v T ay home Fleurette reflected upon the promise 
she had made to Etienne. During the night she thought of 
it still more. Carried away by an impulse of gratitude and 
pity, she had promised ; she was unable to contradict him ; 
and did not see any way of withdrawing her word. 

What reason could she give the poor fellow who had 
been almost killed for her sake ? What reason could she 
give herself ? How justify her ingratitude and bad faith to 
him ? She did not love him, it is true ; she loved no one, she 
had not an idea that any other love was possible to her. 
Her reputation, as she herself had said, was a very weak 
argument to make use of. Mademoiselle Charlotte and her 
companions seemed to be decided that it v r as over with, 
and that she had made a very good bargain. 

There was but one person to whom she could have told 
the embarrassing situation in which she found herself. That 
person was William. But madam e Jacques had told her 
that he would be gone for seven or eight days, and, to tell 
the truth, she was only half sorry* she would never have 
known how to make such a confession to honest William. 

The promise, or rather mistake, was made, and not be- 
ing able to regain it, Fleurette became resigned, or rather 
she shook off her thoughts. She had some days before her, 
that was all that was necessary. 

Etienne, on his side, had difficulty in moderating his joy. 
He had attained the end of all his desires ; his love and his 
pride were satisfied. His comrades, handsomer and better 
off than himself, would no longer be able to make jests upon 
his lack of good fortune ; and then a conquest such as that 
of Fleurette ought to bring him others. 

As yet he had no reason to doubt her good faith, and he 
was still surer when she came to see him the next day. She 


FLEUR ETTE . 


89 


was not alone, it is true, but came in with Michelette. 
They had come to see how the wounded one fared. One 
was his sister, the other had been defended by him. 

If anyone was disturbed or discontented over the acci- 
dent of the day before it was Etienne’s employer, who thus 
saw himself deprived of his workman for some days. De- 
spite his crabbed character he was ordinarily gallant enough 
towards Michelette, and she, in order to appease his wrath 
and plead her brother’s cause, soon left Fleurette and 
Etienne to themselves. 

For an instant Flenrette was silent, then tremblingly 
md with lowered eyes, she said : 

“ Etienne — yesterday I made you a promise.” 

“That promise is my life, my blood,” the young man 
quickly cried, “ I would prefer death to renouncing it?” 

Fleurette gave a start. 

“ Do you wish, perchance, to withdraw it ? ” cried he, his 
features discomposed and pale as death. 

“No,” said Fleurette, “I never break my word, as you 
know, and if I ever should — ” 

“ Well ! ” said Etienne, his lips trembling with emotion. 

“Well!” coldly responded the young girl, “you may 
kill me, I will let you.” 

“ That is right ! ” murmured Etienne. 

“ And — I did not come to withdraw my promise, but to 
beseech you, Etienne, who are a brave and honest young 
man, to return it to me — ” 

“ I ! ” 

“And wait a little longer.” 

“ I ! ” he repeated, with a fury which lie made an effort 
to master. 

“ If you will do that I will be eternally grateful to you, 
and you will gain, perhaps, the only thing which I have 
heretofore denied you.” 

“What?” 

“ My love.” 

“If you do not love me who then do you love ? ” 

“No one more than you,” replied Fleurette. “ It is a 
good and sincere friendship, a sister’s affection, that I have 
long had for you ; but I have frequently heard those girls 
at the shop speak of love ; and in the seductive pictures they 


90 


FLEURETTE. 


drew I never saw anything resembling the feeling I have for 
you.” 

“ That is sufficient, I am content with that. I do not 
desire more. If there is not enough love on your part there 
is on mine to more than make up for it. So I claim your 
promise, you have given it to me, it is mine, you just now 
admitted it.” 

“ It is true,” turning pale, U I do not deny it.” 

“ That is all I ask. The doctor has said that in eight 
days I will be well. That will be on Sunday. We will go 
out for a walk together.” 

“ Very well.” 

“ Or if you prefer that no one should see us — ” 

“ It is indifferent to me,” said Fleurette, with a discour- 
aged air. 

“ That’s better,” said Etienne, delighted. “ I will go 
and wait for you at the Clichy barrier, Father Lathuile’s, 
where I shall order our dinner. I will be there at four 
o’clock, and you at half-past four — will you not?” 

She dropped her head and did not answer. 

“Etienne! Etienne ! ” cried several workmen, calling to 
him, “ here is the doctor come to visit you.” 

He turned towards them, made some steps in the di- 
rection of the doctor, but before reaching him turned back 
again to make his adieu to Fleurette. He did not find her, 
she had escaped and run away. 

“ All right,” said he, “ she shall not escape me always. 
She is mine ! ” 


CHAPTER XIII. 

The next day neither madame Beaurin, mademoiselle 
Justine, M. Rymbaud, nor any of those with whom Fleu- 
rette had relations would have suspected what had hap- 
pened. 

She had recovered her habitual sang-froid and attended 
with her customary activity to the business of the day. 

She had done all she could not to enter the path in 
which she had been thrust against her will ; in spite of her 


FLEURETTE. 


91 


efforts fate had over-ruled her, and submissive, like the 
Orientals, to fatality, she no longer disputed it. She ac- 
cepted it, she abandoned herself to it. It was written 
above. 

Observe that for her the question was not one of morals. 
W as it right ? Was it wrong ? These she completely ig- 
nored ; also that was not what made her hesitate. A secret 
instinct, which she was unable to account for to herself, told 
her that contrary to her companions she would find herself 
neither happy nor satisfied in such an existence. But, after 
all this was not clear to her ; it had not been proven to 
her, and since she had promised, her resolution was taken, 
she would no longer bother herself about it. Nor did she. 

During the eight days which followed her interview with 
Etienne she thought no more of him. The Clichy barrier, 
Father Lathuile’s, nor that improvised marriage which, be- 
fore the annexation of the suburbs to Paris, was vulgarly 
called a marriage of the thirteenth district. 

Only yesterday she had recollected that it had been six 
days at least since she had seen Michelette, which was 
scarcely being polite towards her future sister-in-law. She 
therefore directed her steps towards the latter’s garret. 

On the dark and narrow stairway that led to Miche- 
lette’s rooms, she met on the second landing a man, whose 
features the darkness prevented her from seeing. His dress 
was that of a workman; he was bare-headed and had such 
an agitated air that he barely missed in his descent over- 
throwing Fleurette on the stairs, but he did not stop to 
make any excuses. Fleurette, who was not easily offended, 
continued her long ascent, and arrived at the sixth floor. 

She knocked. It was some time before there was any 
response. She believed there was no one at home and started 
to leave, when the door was opened. 

Michelette appeared, and the air of terror imprinted on 
her features was dissipated on seeing her young friend. 

“Ah ! how glad I am to see you,” she said as they en- 
tered her room, and Fleurette felt that the hand which held 
her’s was still trembling. 

“ What’s the matter ? ” 

“Nothing — I was suffering a little today, and was un- 
able to go and get news of my brother.” 


92 


FLEURETTE. 


“ Nor I either,” naively said Fleurette.” 

“ Nor even to go to the shop.” 

“ What is the matter with you ? ” 

“ A bad headache,” answered Michelette, without think- 
ing much of what she said. 

“ Ah ! ” cried Fleurette, observing her closely, “ has a 
headache produced the black bruise I see on your forehead 
and that cut on your cheek ? ” 

“You believe — ” said Michelette, blushing, 

“ Why certainly, it bleeds.” And she hastened to wipe 
off some drops of blood she saw on her companion’s face. 

“ I wonder how that happened ? ” stammered Michelette. 
“ I may have rubbed off the skin without knowing it.” 

This response appeared rather singular to Fleurette, 
who did not, however, insist on any further explanation. 
She wished to sit down on one of the two chairs in the 
room and found it occupied by a workman’s cap, which had 
doubtless been forgotten there. Michelette hastened to 
seize it and put it away. Her forehead and cheeks were 
purple. 

Just then two knocks at the door given in a distinct and 
particular manner made her tremble. She turned pale, and, 
although scarcely able to stand, hastened to a sort of entry, 
which we have mentioned before, and which served as an 
ante-chamber to the young work-woman’s appartment. She 
closed the door after her, leaving Fleurette alone and very 
much astonished. 

She heard the door which led to the stairs open, then a 
man’s step, and a voice, which was not unknown to her, 
roughly utter these words : 

“ I was already in the street, I returned for my cap, 
which I had forgotten.” 

“ Here it is,” said Michelette in a low tone, and probably 
making him a sign not to speak so loud, for the man replied : 

“ Why not ? Who is there ? ” 

A low voice answered : “ A woman.” 

“ I don’t believe it.” 

Then some one spoke in a low voice and for some time, 
and probably named Fleurette, for the man muttered in a 
lower tone : “ It is possible, I believe I met her coming up. 
But listen now, listen well to what I am going to say.” 


FLEUR ETTE . 


93 


Then the unknown whispered to Michelette, who trem- 
blingly attempted from time to time to put in a supplicating 
word ; but after a while he elevated his voice and said im- 
periously : 

“ I desire it, I wish it ! ” 

“I will obey,” murmured Michelette. 

“ And from to-day,” replied the unknown in a loud voice, 
noisily closing the outside door and rushing down stairs. 

Michelette delayed coming back for an instant, probably 
taking the time to dry her eyes, for when she entered they 
were red, and it was evident she had been weeping. 

“ I beg your pardon for having left you alone,” she said, 
trying to recover herself. 

“ You owe me no excuses, you are not your own mistress. 
I am only astonished — that you are not more so.” 

“Why? What is it? What have you heard?” cried 
Michelette, trembling. 

“ Nothing, I was unable to distinguish more than a few 
words. They were these spoken in a loud voice : ‘ I desire 
it , I wish it ! ’ ” Michelette turned pale. “How does any- 
one here, besides yourself, have the right to say ‘ I wish it.’ 
That should never happen in my garret.” 

“ Possibly,” said Michelette, lowering her eyes, “ if, like 
me, you had had the unhappiness and shame to become a 
slave, and if in your slavery you should find yourself un- 
protected — ” 

“Am I not? ” 

“Ah ! you could do nothing,” cried the poor girl, break- 
ing into tears and throwing herself into Fleurette’s arms. 

“ Don’t cry, don’t cry,” said Fleurette, wiping Miche- 
lette’s tears away. “ Speak, tell me all, and we will see 
afterwards what must be done.” 

“ Well it was Pierre, the cabinet-maker, who was there.” 

“ The one,” Fleurette interrupted, “ who was of our 
donkey party at Montmorency?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ And whom I have frequently seen since at the shop in 
th q rue JSfeuve-Coquenard? ” 

“ Himself. More than three years ago he told me I was 
pretty, waited for me at the shop-door, and accompanied 
me home.” 


94 


FLEURETTE. 


“Yes,” again interrupted Fleurette, “like your brothei 
Etienne when we returned together to my quarter.” 

“ And then on the way he repeated that he loved me.” 

“ Like your brother, Etienne.” 

“But I did not love him yet.” 

“Like me,” said Fleurette. 

“ But that comes in the end — it is very simple ! A young 
fellow all the time saying that he loves you, that he will 
never love but you. When he is present one listens to him, 
when absent one thinks of him. And then the other young 
girls who are constantly saying : 4 Are you a fool, what does 
it serve you to be sentimental and prudish? Who believes 
in it? Do like the rest of us and take a lover. * ” 

“ Just what they said to me.” 

“Well, what can you expect? Unhappily I listened to 
them, and I have not passed a single day since without 
repenting it.” 

“ Bah ! ” cried Fleurette, with an astonished gesture. 

“Not a day without suffering or tears.” 

“ Tell me all about it,” said Fleurette. 

“ In the first place, after a short while his tenderness 
greatly diminished, and the less he loved me the more jeal- 
ous he became. I was unable to see any one without being 
beaten.” 

“ Beaten,” indignantly cried Fleurette, “beaten ! ” 

“Very frequently, to-day, for instance,” said she, point- 
ing to her bruised forehead and cheeks, “ for a mere nothing 
he put himself into a passion, for he is brutal and violent.” 

“ As much so as your brother Etienne ? *’ 

“Nearly. But that is nothing — . Pierre has talent, 
as a workman ; but he is idle, and loves play and wine ; it 
is thus that he spends all his money, and, when it is gone, 
I have to lend him mine.” 

“ At least he repays you ? ” 

“Not always. That would be nothing, however,” con- 
tinued Michelette sweetly, “I could make up for that 
with a few hours extra work — that would be nothing if he 
was good to me, but he orders me so harshly to do things 
sometimes so painful. Just now on learning that you w T ere 
here, Fleurette, he said to me angrily : 4 1 do not wish her 
^ to come here, I do not wish it ! ’—And what reason shall I 


FLEURETTE. 


95 


give her ? ’ I answered — 4 That’s your affair.’ — ‘ But she is 
my best friend.’ — 4 That is my right, you should have no 
friend but me. Arrange it so that she never puts her foot 
here again, to commence from to-day.’ ” 

“ Well ! what did you answer ? ” 

“ I wept, and bowed my head.” 

“ How ! you will obey him ? ” said Fleurette indig- 
nantly. 

“ But what can I do ? ” said the poor girl, regarding her 
with a look of fear and grief. “ What do you wish ? ” 

“ What I wish is that you should send him about his 
business.” 

“ Oh ! no, no,” cried Michelette in terror. “ I would 
like to, but it is impossible.” 

“ And why ? ” 

“ It makes me shudder to only think of it, I shouldn’t 
dare.” 

“ Why ? ” repeated Fleurette forcibly. 

“I am so in the habit of obeying and fearing him that 
if. I should tell him to leave he would beat me.” 

“ Possibly, but he would leave.” 

“Ho, he would not; and the next day he would com- 
mence over again. Every day there would be fresh scenes. 
It is better to say nothing and submit.” 

“ Submit ! but you will die ! ” 

“ I have thought so — but once tied, do you see, one is 
unable to disengage ones’self. One must give up, obey, 
above all without complaint, for they owe us nothing. We 
are not like those who have husbands. They are happy.” 

“ Are they not beaten ? ” ingenuously asked Fleurette. 

“ Sometimes, but all the world is on their side, whilst 
when we suffer they cry ‘ serve them right ! ’ ” 

Fleurette remained some time with her head between 
her hands, then looking at Michelette, she said : 

“ Things shall not go on like this. Have confidence in 
me, and we will see.” 

She returned home ; not to sleep, but to reflect. 

The doctor had yesterday been to see Etienne, but it 
was to be his last visit. He had given him leave to use his 
arm and to go out. Etienne felt his heart throb when he 
thought of the happiness promised him for the next day. 


96 


FLEURETTE. 


Discreet, this time he had not spoken to any of his 
comrades, and not even to his sister. Desirous of reinstat- 
ing himself in his employer’s good graces, whom a week of 
idleness had displeased, he had done double work on Satur- 
day, and had even worked half of Sunday. 

Free, after two o’clock, his sole occupation had been to 
try and make himself handsome. He had taken pains with 
his toilet, which had never been more elegant, and never 
had he taken more time to it, for it was a quarter to four 
when he directed his steps towards the Clichy barrier. His 
gait was proud and his air radiant. Although it had been 
agreed with Fleurette that this first interview should be 
altogether private, he would not have been sorry, perhaps, 
had his incognito been discovered ; and he looked about ‘ 
him from time to time, with a curious eye, to see if he was 
not recognised by some comrade. 

He arrived at father Lathuile’s, beyond the barrier, the 
Preres Provencaux of the poorer classes. He secured a 
particular cabinet at the end of the garden in which he in- 
stalled himself, ordered a modest dinner (magnificent for 
him), and then, his heart full of hope and counting the' 
minutes, he waited. The time appeared long to him. He 
had no watch. Ho one appeared. He walked in the gar- 
den, then returned to his salon. It seemed to him as if a 
century had elapsed, and impatience, even anger, com- 
menced to show T itself, when the door opened. 

Fleurette appeared in a simple and charming toilet. He 
hastened forward to receive her, uttering a cry of joy, a joy 
which was considerably diminished on seeing his sister with 
her. He turned first red, then pale, and appeared put out. 

“ I was sure of the effect we would produce upon him,” 
cried Fleurette. “ Yes, Etienne, it is a family fete. We 
wished, your sister and I, to celebrate your convalescence ; 
we have brought you sincere friendship and good appetites 
For may part, I am dying of hunger.” 

< “ And I, also,” said Michelette. 

“ To table ! ” called out Fleurette, on seeing one of the 
waiters of the establishment enter. 

All this was said with so much ease and gaiety that 
Etienne thought Fleurette had undoubtedly run against his 
sister by an unforeseen chance that would be explained to 


FLEURETTE. 


97 


him, or that she had been brought, through a sense of mod- 
esty on Fleurette’s part, to lessen the constraint and embar- 
rassment of a first rendezvous. After all it mattered little 
to him ; for in the evening, after conducting his sister to her 
home, he intended, in his plans, to take Fleurette to tier's. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

It was a gay dinner. Each was content. Etienne, be- 
cause he was animated by hope ; Fleurette, as if sustained 
by a good resolution ; and Michelette, because she was with 
her friend and her brother, and, if it must be confessed, 
also perhaps because Pierre was not present. 

They drank Etiennes health ; Fleurette drank to friend- 
ship. Etienne, seated near her and interpreting differently 
the toast, returned thanks, and touched her hand in an ex- 
pressive manner ; but the young girl did not appear to com- 
prehend him, an ignorance which did not astonish, but 
charmed, him. 

After dinner, which Etienne found very long, they 
promenaded outside the barrier. It was winter, and night 
came on early. Etienne proposed that they should take 
his sister home first, which was agreed to, and when the 
street-door had closed upon Michelette, he cried out : 

“ At last we are alone, and it is not without difficulty, 
I have so many things to say to you.” 

“ And I also,” responded Fleurette. 

“ I am going to take you home ; give me your arm.” 

M Willingly.” 

They began to walk along together : Etienne, radiant 
with joy pressed the young girl’s arm against his heart and 
she, not appearing to notice it, said in a calm voice: 

“ Let us first speak of family affairs.” 

“ To-morrow.” 

“ No, at once. I am charged by your sister to make you, 
as soon as we should be alone, a confession at which she did 
not wish to be present.” 


7 


98 


FLEURETTE . 


“ What the devil is the matter with her? ” cried Etienne 
impatiently. 

“ Do you not suspect,” said Fleurette slowly, “ that your 
comrade Pierre, the cabinet-maker, is Michelette’s lover?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ And you have not spoken of it to him ? ” 

t£ No, because I did not wish to know it.” 

“ It was wrong, then ? ” continued Fleurette, regarding 
him closely. 

“ I did not say that,” responded Etienne, embarrassed, 
Michelette is old enough to know what she is about, and, 
after all, she is her own mistress.” 

“ It is because she is her own mistress that she has de- 
cided, from to-morrow, to break with him, and as it may 
possibly make a noise at the shoj) she wishes to acquaint you 
with it in advance, so you may not be astonished.” 

“ All right ! ” 

“And that you may know whom to stand up for.” 

“ I thank her ! But what has that to do with us ? ” said 
Etienne, tenderly regarding the young girl and pressing her 
to his heart. 

“ Much ! ” said she, disengaging the arm which Etienne 
had passed around her waist. 

“ That does not prevent us from loving,” pursued Eti- 
enne, increasing his pace. “ But I cannot explain myself 
here, and as soon as we have arrived at your room—” 

“ To what good ? ” she tranquilly responded. -“ Speak 
now, and be quick, for we have almost arrived.” 

“What does it matter? We will talk it over in your 
room.” 

“No,” said she. Etienne stopped as if he had heard 
imperfectly. 

“ How, ‘ no ! ’ ” cried he, “ it is impossible ! and why 
‘no!’?” 

“Because,” replied Fleurette slowly and reflectively, 
“ Pierre has beaten Michelette.” 

“ That’s no reason,” impatiently cried the young man. 

“Yes it is, a very strong; for I have sworn to myself 
that I will never give anyone the right to beat me, nor to 
speak to me as a master.” 

The argument was so unforeseen and so just that for q, 


FLEURETTE. 99 

moment Etienne appeared disconcerted. At length he re- 
covered himself, and replied with unconcealed emotion : 

“ Ah ! who tells you that I would speak to you as a 
master, or that I would ever lift my hand against you?” 

“ Who tells me! why your own character and habits, 
and the anger which at this very instant is boiling in your 
veins, and may break forth at any moment.” 

“ Even if it should ! ” cried Etienne, who unwillingly 
felt that she was right, ** would it not be right after such 
treatment, for you have made a fool of me.” 

“ No, I acted in good faith.” 

“ You have deceived me ! ” 

“ I deceived myself.” 

“ But,” cried Etienne, whose irritation constantly in- 
creased, “ you have promised — you have sworn to me — ” 

“ It is true.” 

“ Solemnly sworn.” 

“ I admit it.” 

“ To such an extent that you said : ‘If I break my word 
I permit you to kill me ! ’ ” 

“And I permit it yet,” said the young girl. 

“ What do you dare to say?” 

“ That I prefer death ! ” tranquilly responded Fleurette. 
“ One can be killed but once, but one may be beaten every 
day.” 

This sang-froid would have disarmed any other than 
Etienne; but he could not believe that Fleurette had told 
him the truth ; it seemed too improbable. He imagined 
that another motive, another engagement, another lover was 
the cause of her breaking her word and withdrawing herself 
from his arms. * 

They had arrived at Fleurette’s door, and the sight of it 
irritating his hopes yet more made the storm, already too 
long restrained, burst forth. Beside himself, furious, he 
cried : 

“ I will not be the dupe of another’s profit. I will follow 
you to your room, or else — ” 

While thus speaking he quickly shook off her arm and, 
raising his hand, brutally struck her. 

“ Thanks ! ” coolly said Fleurette. “ You have proved 
to me that I was right. And now,” she continued, with a 


100 


FLEURETTE. 


gesture full of dignity, “ go ! I no longer promise you any- 
thing. You have freed me from my oath, and even from 
any remorse.” 

Etienne’s rage was now boundless, he was a maniac. 
Raving, he was about to proceed to extremities when the 
arm, which he had again lifted, was all at once seized and 
arrested by a vigorous hand which held him as in a vice 
and forced him to remain motionless. 

Fleurette glanced at her defender, uttered a glad cry, 
and threw herself into his arms. 

“William! ” she said, “you have returned.” 

But he, before answering her, turned to Etienne, saying : 

“ You see that I am the stronger.” 

William possessed, in fact, the form of a Hercules and 
nerves like steel, and the arm which he at that moment held 
was the same which had been recently dislocated. 

Etienne uttered a cry of pain. William loosened his 
grasp but still retained hold of him. 

“Good-night, Fleurette,” said William, “return home 
till to-morrow.” 

“ Till to-morrow,” she said, “ I will be ready to see you 
at as early an hour as you wish.” 

Etienne gave a start, but the door closed and Fleurette 
was safe at home, William freed his prisoner and said : 

“ If you are not satisfied you can find me at any time. 
You know where I live,” and he pointed to the corner of 
the street. 

“ Au revoir then,” said Etienne who, furious, disappeared. 

Early the next morning Fleurette opened the door of her 
little room to her friend William, whom she again embraced 
and overwhelmed him with thanks, questions, and reproaches 
for his long absence. 

“ Ten days at least ! What have you been doing all that 
time ? ” 

“ Let us commence with yourself,” said William. “ What 
has happened to you ? ” he asked uneasily. “ How did these 
quarrels come about, to commence with, that of last night ? ” 

She related to him forgetting nothing, all that had hap- 
pened since his departure. She concealed nothing, nor did 
she leave him in ignorance of any of the sentiments, good 
or bad, which had agitated her. 


101 


FLEURETTE. 

It was her life, her entire soul, which she displayed be- 
fore her friend’s eyes, with a naivete and candor which pro- 
foundly moved him. He at first listened with a severe air 
which, as she went on, became indulgent and even tender. 
He frequently murmured, with emotion : 

“ Yes, — yes — that was like an honest girl ! ” 

“ Nevertheless,” he said in a tone still showing a trace of 
resentment, “ you promised to be his.” 

“ That is true.” 

“ Then you loved him a little ? ” 

“ Not at all.” 

“ And you accorded him,” he pursued, with warmth, 
“ what others, who love you much better would be only too 
happy to obtain at the price of their lives.” 

“ What would you have? I thought myself obliged.” 

“ Ah ! Fleurette, what a head yours is ! * 

“ Happily I am disengaged, I am quit of him, I am 
free.” 

“And will you never again commit such imprudences ?” 

“Never! you may be sure; for you would not always 
be able, like yesterday, to come to my aid.- But what has 
happened to you, my kind William, and what have you to 
tell me? ” 

William’s recital was not long. He had found work at 
the other end of Paris. It was not only sawing wood, but 
also bottling wine and arranging an immense cellar ; a con- 
fidential work which would keep him in that quarter for 
some days, and on which in his present condition of mind 
(a detail he did not tell Fleurette) he accepted with pleas- 
ure, in order to keep away from her. The rich manu- 
facturer, for whom he was working, was a Swiss, who had 
given him news of Schaffhouse. William had learned 
through him that he had inherited a small family property, 
and since he had had only one idea. 

“ What ? ” asked Fleurette. 

“ To ‘return to my own country, and establish myself 
there ; and for that a wife will be necessary, a good wife ; 
and to realize this dream,” he said, laughing and rubbing 
his hands, “ it is first necessary to look well around one.” 

While speaking his eyes dwelt in turn upon Fleurette 
and her humble surroundings. All at once his looks, before 


102 


FLEURETTE. 


bo happy and joyous, became gloomy and disturbed. He 
perceived, hanging over the mantle-piece, the watch, brooch 
and gold chain, which Fleurette possessed through the gen- 
erosity of the unknown. 

“ What are these,” he said. 

She told him how the jewels had been mysteriously sent 
to her. 

“ It is a lover who sends them to you,” he said coldly. 

“You think so?” 

“ I am sure of it.” 

“ And not to know who it is ! ” said Fleurette, striking 
her forehead. “ Ah ! how I wish I knew him ! ” 

“ Why ? ” 

“ Oh ! just to know. I have always been curious.” 

“ And do you wear these jewels?” asked William 
severely. 

“ Certainly : willing or not I have to, as I am unable to 
return them.” 

“ At least you are not obliged to wear them.” 

“ What harm is there in it ? ” 

“ A very great one. He who sends them has intentions.” 

“ What’s that to me. I laugh at him and his inten- 
tions.” 

“ He will believe that you welcome them if he sees that 
you accept his presents.” 

“ Hest easy,” cried she quickly, “ as soon as I know who 
he is I will return them to him.” 

<e And until then,” continued William, “ you will no 
longer carry them ? ” 

“Ah that would be a pity ! ” she said, pouting, “ they 
are so pretty ! ” 

# “ Pretty or not you ought not to wear them any longer, 
if it is only for what the world will say.” 

“ I would like to know what it matters to the world — 
or to you either ? ” she said impatiently. 

“ I care a great deal,” he responded seriously. 

“ Then you are more difficult to please than I am. I 
care nothing.” 

William sadly regarded her, and, as he was leaving, 
said : 

“ You are mistress, act as you please.” 


FLEUR ETTE. 


103 


“Just in time ! ” said she to herself in reference to his 
leaving. “ He is getting unreasonable. I don’t know what 
is the matter with him to-day.” 

Next day she put her gold chain round her neck, as 
usual, descended the faubourg Montmartre, and perceiving 
William at a distance, made him a friendly gesture which 
he returned. But he turned aside without her perceiving 
it and brushed away a tear. The next day she did not meet 
him ; the day after that, again not seeing him and becoming 
uneasy, she determined to go and learn something of him 
from madame Jacques. , 

“William,” said that honest woman, lowering her head, 
“ was too good a man for this country, and has returned to 
Switzerland.” 

“Gone!” cried Fleurette, “ gone without speaking to 
me, without embracing me ! then he has forgotten me. 
Didn’t he speak of me to you ? ” 

‘ Almost all day,” responded the charwoman naively. 

“ And not to bid me adieu — ah ! that was bad ! ” 
Fleurette went away dismayed. She understood that 
she had lost her best friend. She concealed her face in 
her hands, and wept. It was for the first time in her 
life. 


CHAPTER XV. 

That evening she returned home sad and pensive. She 
was undressing before her glass when she perceived on the 
wooden mantle of her chimney-piece a bouquet and a very 
elegant and coquettish little white pasteboard box. 

“ Another present from the unknown ! ” she said. 

She could not conceal from herself that these presents 
had not pleased William, her friend and censor. An idea, 
a secret instinct, which she was unable to clearly account 
for, told her that the^e jewels, which she had appeared to 
care so much for, perhaps had something to do with 
William’s sudden departure. 

Also, remembering his recommendation, Fleurette’s first 


104 


FLEURETTE. 


impulse was not to open the mysterious box. But whom 
would her discretion serve ? Whether or not she abstained 
from examining the contents, what advantage would re- 
sult from her abstinence. No ohe could see her, she was 
alone ; and since she had looked at the two other presents, 
she could do the same with the third; she would be none 
the more culpable. So, like a modern Pandora, slowly and 
softly she lifted the cover of the box, not without first throw- 
ing an uneasy glance around her to assure herself that no one 
was watching, and perceived a small sky-blue cashmere 
shawl, ^he prettiest and most coquettish that had ever cov- 
ered the shoulders of a grisette. Her first impulse, an ir- 
resistable one, was to unfold it, and, an instant later, with- 
out thinking, the shawl was upon her shoulders. It was 
very becoming ; warm, soft and of a beautiful shade. Fleur- 
ette had never worn a cashmere, neither had any of her 
companions. 

All at once she uttered a cry. She was positively 
certain, now, that she knew the unknown. 

To tell the truth, she had had some suspicions, but never 
any proofs, and the one she suspected of this generosity, far 
from seeking to derive any advantage from it, had not even 
boasted of it, a reserve which did not appear to belong to 
his character. 

She remembered that some days before she had talked 
about a cashmere with Justine, in mademoiselle Delia’s bou- 
doir and that M. Ludovic Durussel, seated in an easy-chair, 
his feet stretched out towards the fire, and a cigar his mouth, 
had assisted at their conference. 

J ustine was proud of a little three-quarter shawl, of a 
pastage, which her mistress had presented to her. Fleurette, 
greatly admiring it, had naively avowed that she had never 
yet touched cashmere, and that the dream of her life was 
to own such an one, a dream however, small as it was, im- 
possible to realize. 

She also recalled that mademoiselle Justine had laugh- 
ingly asked her which was her favorite color, and that she 
had replied ; “ sky-blue ; it becomes me best.” 

Now it was evident that M. Ludovic, who, while smok- 
ing his cigar, seemed drowsy and not attending to any- 
thing, had heard them, and that this small cashmere was the 


FLE U'RE TTE. 


105 


sequel to the mysterious crusade that he had undertaken 
against mademoiselle Fleurette’s heart and virtue, an at- 
tempt the latter was determined to baffle. 

This determination occupied her thoughts all night, and 
at the sam6 time she thought of M. Ludovic, her first meet- 
ing with whom, it is true, had left disagreeable memories 
but who latterly, it must be acknowledged, had presented 
himself under a more favorable aspect. 

Not that Fleurette had been tempted by his tender pro- 
posals, but she was obliged to confess that there was an ele- 
gance in his manners and a politeness in his tone that would 
- be vainly sought for in Etienne, the work-man. 

Still she understood that William had been entirely 
right ; that the day when she meet Ludovic at mademoiselle 
Delia’s she had on the brooch and gold chain, which he 
must have seen, and that to accept his gifts was to author- 
ize his pursuit, which she was far from intending. 

As her resolutions once taken were promptly executed 
she arose, dressed, folded the shawl, replaced it and the 
jewelry in the box, and went out. 

She remembered having often heard M. Ludovic’s ad- 
dress mentioned at mademoiselle Delia’s, so it was not neces- 
essary for her to make any inquiries. 

Without consulting anyone (William was gone), without 
for an instant thinking that her proceeding was most singu- 
lar and hazardous (her intention was good, that sufficed her), 
she put herself en route. It was almost ten o’clock when 
she arrived at the house inhabited by madame Durussel 
. and her son Ludovic. 

It was a magnificent mansion constructed in the modern 
taste and style, gold and bronze, voilet-ebony, and shining 
cedar as far as the grand stairway. The vestibule paved with 
the most precious marbles. 

Fleurette, astonished, stopped before the porter’s lodge, 
which was a magnificent salon with a Sienna marble mantel- 
piece, a gold clock, and a mahogany piano. Mademoiselle 
Famela, the concierge’s daughter, was a pupil at the con- 
servatory. 

“What do wish, mademoiselle?” asked a fine gentle- 
man, with a paternal air, black clothes and a white cravat 
whom one would have taken for the proprietor, and who 


.106 


FLEURETTE. 


seemed standing there to receive his guests. “ What do you 
. wish ? what do you want ? ” 

Fleurette, confused, waited a moment before replying, 
and the Swiss, coming to her aid, continued; 

“ I understand ! for madame? ” 

“ No,” said she,” for monsieur.” 

“ Monsieur Ludovic !” said the concierge, with a wicked 
smile, u that is different, mademoiselle. Please ascend the 
little staircase, at the right of the court, to the first floor.” 

Fleurette mounted a small stairway, warmed by a hot- ' 
air stove, and whose steps were covered with a rich Aubus- 
son carpet. At the right was a balustrade in mahognay 
and crystal. 

Arrived at the first floor she rang. A young and appar- 
ently, intelligent groom answered. 

“ Mademoiselle wishes to see monsieur ?” said he with a 
sprightly air. 

“Yes but your master does not expect me,” 

“ Mademoiselle is one of those whom he always expects. 
Who shall I announce ?” 

“ Mademoiselle Fleurette.” 

An instant later she heard hurried steps, Ludovic him- 
self hastened to meet her. He was in morning dress, and 
wore a magnificent dressing-gown. 

“ It is you, my deq,r child,” cried he, “ you condescend 
to make me a visit ! When Gabriel announced you I was 
unable to believe in such happiness. Enter, I pray you ; 
make yourself at home.” 

Fleurette without waiting to be urged unceremoniously 
entered a delicious boudoir, containing all the refinements 
of luxury and comfort. She had never seen anything to 
equal it, not even at Delia’s, who was the leader of the prin- 
cesses of the Breda dynasty. Here was the richness which 
was to be found at her apartments, and, in addition, the 
good taste and elegance which she lacked. 

Madame Durussel had taken pleasure in herself arrang- 
ing her son’s appartments ; and they were really remark- 
able for the choice upholstery and elegant furniture they 
contained, as well as for the pictures and objets (Tart which 
decorated their walls. 

Ludovic was overjoyed at a visit, or rather a good for 


FLEURETTE. 107 

tune, so unforeseen ; his complexion was brilliant, his eyes 
shone, and his heart beat rapidly. 

“ Sit down there,” he said pointing to a sofa at the corner 
of the mantel. 

“ And you there” said indicating an easy chair opposite 
to, but some distance from, her. 

There was in the young girls gesture something so frank, 
and at the same time so absolute, that Ludovic, without 
thinking of objecting, found himself, before he knew it 
seated opposite her. 

“I have come here, monsieur,” she said, “in regard to 
an important and grave affair.” 

“You!” he cried, “have come here to treat me to a 
grave affair?” 

“ You are not used to it ; neither am I. How can it be 
helped?” said she, smiling, “We will each of us make a 
beginning and come out of it as well as we can.” 

“ It is true, then ? ” said Ludovic, astonished. 

“ Perfectly,” she replied with the greatest coolness. 

She took from beneath her mantle the little box 
she had brought with her, and prepared to commence the 
conversation. Ludovic dismayed at the course she was taking 
did riot know how to prevent it, when his groom, Gabriel, 
reentered with monsieur’s breakfast. Gabriel was curious 
and not sorry to be able, if he was asked, to give his opinion 
on his master’s new choice, his future mistress. 

Fleurette remained silent when he entered. The little 
groom placed the tea on a round table which he pushed 
near the fire. Then Ludovic, glancing towards Fleurette, 
said graciously : 

“ I am sure that you have not breakfasted.” 

“ It is true,” said the young girl heedlessly, without 
thinking of what she said. 

“ Gabriel ! a cup, a cover ! ” cried Ludovic. 

« No ! ” said Fleurette, “ I don’t want any, I did not come 
for that.” 

“No matter! it is late, very late ; your health before 
ill, and I will not listen to, nor treat of, any affair, important 
or not, until you have first breakfasted.” 

“ Very well ! ” said Fleurette, who after all, was hungry, 
and also curious to know to what use were put all the richly 


108 


FLEURETTE. 


carved silver utensils set out on the round table, for instance 
the tea-pot, sugar bowl, and above all the urn, a steam ap- 
paratus, the noise and steam of which puzzled the young 
girl very much. 

Ludovic hastened to serve his young guest with the 
most delicate care and attention, He was occupied with 
her only. Fearing that the tea was not entirely to her taste, 
he had made a sign to Gabriel who instantly descended to 
the cAtf/’and in a short while returned from the kitchen with 
some choice and elegant dishes, the existence of which 
Fleurette had never even suspected, but whose merits she 
greatly appreciated. 

Without intending it, she compared this repast with the 
one she had recently shared with Etienne at Father Lath- 
ui'le’s. These glasses, plate, damask linen of Saxony, and 
Sevres porcelain appeared magical and fairy-like to her. 
She fully believed in the tale o f- u The Thousand and One 
ISTights.” The frame so set off the picture that Ludovic, 
with his present advantageous surroundings, seemed alto- 
gether a different man to her. 

How then could she defend herself from the fascination 
and seduction that surrounded this luxury since she herself, 
formerly so rational and practical, experienced difficulty 
just now in resisting it. Everything transported her into 
a new world ; even the patchouli, with which the air was 
impregnated, a fashionable perfume, the odor of which was 
so fragrant and delicate that her senses as well as her ig- 
norance were charmed. 

After the breakfast Ludovic offered her a cup of hot tea 
which she accepted, like the rest from curiosity rather than 
from desire. Seated on a comfortable little sofa she enjoyed 
the sweetened liquid which she drank for the first time; 
she partook of it slowly, abandoning herself to the de- 
licious reveries that ordinarily follow a good repast. 

Ludovic relieved her of the empty cup and the young 
girl remained silent plunged in her reflections. 

Ludovic made a sign to Gabriel to remove the tray and 
to withdraw, which he accordingly did, being accustomed 
to such orders; and the soft carpet was mute under his steps 
and the door of the room, in closing, awakened no indis- 
creet echo. 


FLEURETTE. 


109 


Ludovic was at one corner of the mantel ; Fleurette at 
the other, her feet resting on the gilt andirons, her head 
leaning on the back of the sofa ; smiling, and with lips half 
open, she regarded the ceiling, representing cupids playing 
amidst roses. 

For an instant the young man admired this gracious 
pose, then murmured in a low voice : 

“ What are you thinking of, Fleurette ? ” 

Fleurette quickly raised her head, rubbed her eyes as if 
recovering from a dream, and resolutely shaking off the tor- 
por which seemed creeping over her, smilingly replied: 

“ I was thinking of our first interview, and was saying 
to myself that it was wrong to expect you rich and grand 
noblemen to be anything else than fops and saucy fellows. 1 ” 

“ How ? ” cried Ludovic astonished. 

“ Doubtless, it is so easy,” pursued she, squaring herself 
in her chair, “to allow one’s self to become intoxicated by 
fine words and comforts, that I can understand that there 
are many people, to commence with myself,, who forget a 
great many things.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” cried the young man joyously. 

“ That means,” tranquilly replied Fleurette, who had re- 
covered her habitual sang-froid , “ that I came here on an 
important piece of bussiness, and that I forgot it. Let us 
speak of it now.” 

“Very well!” said Ludovic, a little troubled at the 
young girl’s calmness. 

Fleurette took from the mantel the box she had brought, 
placed it on her knees, and, sinking back into the comfort- 
able seat she occupied, looked Ludovic straight in the face 
and said : 

“ Monsieur, here are some very pretty things which do 
not belong to me, and which for some time I have wished 
I to return to him who has offered them to me, but I did not 
know him. It it only since yesterday that I have found him, 

: and I come like an honest girl as I am, to say to him : ‘ I 
i do not wish to, neither can I, accept these presents.’ ” 

She had opened the box ; Ludovic, stopping her with 
his hand, gravely said : 

“ Mademoiselle, I do not understand what you have done 
me the honor to tell me.” 


110 


FLEURETTE. 


“How Monsieur!” cried she, stupefied, “is it not you 
who have bribed my portress, madame Beaurin ?” 

“ In the first place, mademoiselle, I never bribe any one ; 
and in this case I would not have addressed myself to 
madame Beaurin.” 

Fleurette had not recovered from her surprise. 

“ How, monsieur, it is not you who have had placed on 
my mantle-piece these bouquets, this chain, and this watch ? ” 

“ I wish I had thought of it, but I confess that the idea 
never entered my head.” 

“ But this shawl ? ” said she, displaying it,“ this blue 
cashmere shawl, which I spoke to. Justine about the other day 
in mademoiselle Delia’s boudoir, while you, pretending to 
sleep, listened to us.” 

“ If I acknowledge myself to blame, mademoiselle, “ he 
said with the same gravity, “ it is because I slept while 
you were speaking ; but the fact is that being asleep I heard 
nothing.” 

“ And yet,“ said she impatiently, “ this shawl, exactly 
like the one I dreamt of, came to me the next day. Who 
sent it then ? ” 

Ludovic smilingly regarded the young girl, and answer- 
ed gaily ; 

“You ask me, who sent you this shawl? You should not 
address that question to me but to mademoiselle Justine. 
Has she not other Mends besides me to whom she could 
have related your conversation ? Am I the only young man 
received at mademoiselle Delia’s, the only one who finds you 
charming ? And yet scarcely have I dared to say it to you 
sometimes en passant, for you are very severe, without any 
appearance of it.” 

“ I ! ” 

“Yourself ! We young men of fashion have some self- 
respect and we care for our reputations, but we do not like 
to receive a check and only make ourselves known when we 
are sure of success.” 

“ Ah ! is that the motive — ? ” 

“ Probably. If you are really anxious to discover this 
mysterious lover — ” 

“ I am, very ! ” 


FLEURETTE. 


Ill 


“ I will make inquiries, and to aid me in my inquiries 
first permit me to see these marvelous presents.” 

“ Behold them ! ” said she, showing them to him. 

“ Oh ! oh ! ” said he examining them with disdain : 
“here is a brooch of very little value.” 

^ “ The value makes no difference, monsieur.” 

“ The style at least makes some ; it is in very bad 
taste.” 

“You think so ! ” said she, astonished, “ I found it char- 
ming.” 

“ Tou are very good. I know that I should never offer 
you so paltry a present, and one so unworthy of you. It is 
like this watch, the very commonest, a slop-made watch ! 
and this small cashmere, try it on, I pray you ! ” 

She put it over her shoulders. 

“ Ah, me ! ” cried he,“ to put on a princess’s shoulders 
a grisette’s shawl ! I would not have exposed them to the 
dangers of catching cold under a garment which scarcely 
covers them, nor would I have consented to the concealment 
of such a fine and elegant figure except under the finest 
fabrics ! ” 

“ With all that, monsieur, “ said Fleurette, impatient at 
these compliments, 14 1 remain with the shawl on my hands : 
what am I to do ! ” 

“ Keep it, ” he laughingly answered, “ until we have dis- 
covered the one who sent it.” 

“ And you are very sure, monsieur, “ she replied fasten- 
ing upon him an attentive regard, 44 that you did not ?” 

“ To prove it,” lie said, making a gesture asjf to throw 
it in the fire, 44 I wish to burn it, so I may have the right to 
give you another.” 

“No, I do not wish it burned, but that it be returned to 
him to whom it belongs, and who well knows that I do not 
wish anything from him and that he can expect nothing 
from me.” 

These words were uttered in such a determined man- 
ner that Ludovic understood that there was nothing further 
to be done at least just then, and that it was necessary to 
temporize in order not to lose all. 

“I understand that you do not want these presents, but 


112 


FLEURETTE. 


in order to return them to the simpleton who sent them it 
is first necessary to know him. I will do my utmost to find 
him.” 

“ Good ! ” said Fleurette with satisfaction. 

“ And as soon as I am on his track, as soon as I have 
any suspicion, I will communicate with you.” 

“ How ?” said she quickly, 

“ I will come to your house and tell you.” 

He had hazarded this remark timidly and Fleurette with- 
out any distrust frankly responded : 

“ At mine ! no, I am never there.” 

“ Then come here, like to-day, as you pass in the nOTn- 
ing.” 

“ In the morning, “ said she, naively thinking over her 
morning’s route, “ that will be difficult.” 

“ Are you afraid of me ? ” asked Ludovic with a melan- 
chol}\nnd becoming smile. 

“ Why should I be ? ” replied she, raising her head, with 
an astonishment far from flattering to the young man’s self- 
esteem. “Whether I come or not you know that it is all 
the same.” 

“ Then come, ” quickly responded Ludovic. 

She looked around as if to assure herself that this luxury 
which had at first surprised and charmed her, had almost 
already lost its danger, and tranquilly replied ; 

“ Why not ? But you promise to inform me who has sent 
me these presents ! ” 

“ I do. And in return,” said he, detaining the young girl 
who was rising to leave, “ you will tell me why you do not 
love me.” 

“ I will, if I discover the reason.” 

“There must be some reason,” insisted he. 

“There may be many,” responded she, laughing, “ and I 
am in a hurry.” 

“ But at least tell me one — only one ! ” 

At that moment the groom entered with an unsigned 
note, on satin paper, saying : 

“From mademoiselle Delia ! ” 

“ Ah ! ” said Fleurette gaily, “ you demand reasons, and 
perhaps here is one.” 

“ It is true, “ said Ludovic blushing and trying to smile, 


FLEURETTE. 


113 


“ I remember that a propos of this partnershij) passion — 
you have already counselled me to end it.” 

“ For your own sake , ” cried she,“ not for mine.” 

She hastened out of the boudoir, descended the private 
stairway, crossed the courtyard, and, in leaving the sump- 
tuous hotel, encountered Etienne, who was going to his 
work by his usual route, that is to say the longest. 

This was the first time they had met since the scene in 
which William had played the part of liberator. 

Etienne, whose love rather than his vanity had been 
wounded, ashamed of his conduct, had told no one of the 
check he had received, and had sworn to not only forget 
Fleurette but to never speak to her again. 

All at once perceiving her, brisk, smart and prettier 
than ever, he felt his love revive, and seeing her come out 
of a superb hotel at that hour the serpent of jealousy 
pierced his heart afresh. 0 

He at first wished to pass without being seen, but he was 
unable to withdraw his eyes from her. He wished, at the 
least not to accost her, but he found himself vis-h-vis to 
Fleurette uncertain yet whether he would speak or not. 

It was she who first broke the silence. 

“Good-day, Etienne!” she said, without embarrassment 
and as if nothing had passed between them,“ how are 
you ? ” 

“Bad,” responded the workman. 

Then, no longer being able to contain the suffering which 
tortured him, he said in a suppressed voice : 

“ Where have you been ? ” 

Fleurette regarded him with astonishment, and did not 
reply. 

“ Whence come you,” he angrily repeated, “ in this toilet, 
at this hour, and leaving this handsome house?” 

“ What do you mean ? ” slowly said Fleurette, “ and what 
business is it of yours ? ” 

“It concerns me,” said he, beside himself, “ it concerns 
me, because I love you.” There were tears in his eyes while 
he spoke. 

“ You love me, and you beat me ! ” 

“ I beat you — because I loved you ! ” 

This reason was not without some value in Fleurette’s 

8 


114 


FLEURETTE. 


eyes, as she had always liked her old comrade, in spite of his 
had character. 

“ Listen,” she said to him gently ; “ Once for all convince 
yourself that you have no rights over me, no account to de- 
mand of me, and that I am my own mistress. Are you 
thoroughly convinced of it ? ” 

“Yes,” said he, lowering his head. 

“ That being understood, I am pleased to inform you that 
I come from M. Ludovic Durussel’s house because I had to 
speak to him there.” 

“ Why?” said he turning pale. 

“ On my own business ! ” 

“ What ? tell me ! ” 

“ I would, frankly, and as to a friend, were your lips not 
pale and trembling with anger ; and I do not see what 
right you have to either get angry at, or to question me.” 

“That means,” cried he, “ that you confess ! ” 

“ I confess nothing! but if he pleased me I would avow 
it! Meanwhile calm yourself, and we shall meet again when 
you become more reasonable.” 

She went rapidly off ; leaving Etienne standing motion- 
less before the hotel. 

“ Ah ! this M. Ludovic,” said he, shaking his fists in the 
air, “ I will not lose sight of him ! ” 


CHAPTER XYI. 

The following Sunday Fleurette on making her morning 
visit to mademoiselle Justine found the latter extremely 
agitated. 

“ Heavens ! what is the matter now?” 

“ Great affairs, my little dear.” 

“ Affairs of State ?” asked Fleurette, smiling. 

“ Precisely,” answered the femme cle chambre shaking her 
head with a serious air as if foreseeing great evils. “ It is 
long since things went well. Oh ! revolutions, revolutions. 


FLEURETTE. 115 

I detest them ! I believed that after that of Mexico we 
would have no more, and here is a new one.” 

“ Truly ?” cried Fleurette, curiously, “ what is this ?” 

Justine lowered her voice, and replied: 

“ M. Ludovic Durussel has broken, positively broken, with 
mademoiselle Delia, my mistress ; it was only yesterday that 
he declared himself, 'but I could see for some time that he 
was preparing the stroke for us. Whence is he going ? I 
do not know, but this does not come from him. M. Ludovic 
is too undecided a character to ever take such a resolution of 
hif own accord.” 

Fleurette was somewhat moved on hearing these words. 
Yesterday she had again seen Ludovic, whose intentions 
had been much plainer and his compliments more pressing, 
but he had said nothing to her of his projects of abdication 
in regard to Delia. In this she saw a delicacy which flat- 
tered her, not that she wished to withdraw Ludovic from 
his one-third interest in Delia’s heart, but for everybody, 
above all for a woman, there is, in the least domination ex- 
ercised, a satisfaction of self-love which is almost sure to win 
her gratitude. 

“ My mistress,” continued Justine,” is vexed to the last 
degree.” 

“ She loved him very much then ? ” said Fleurette. 

“ Not the least in the world, no more than the others. 
She is too honest to have any preference. But it is as an- 
noying and embarrassing as an administration affair. M. 
Ludovic retires, and his two associates are not rich enough 
to keep up the establishment by themselves. 

“ I understand.” 

“ And in case of failing to agree there would be a com- 
pulsory dissolution, a liquidation. Altogether it is a part- 
nership the reconstruction of which very much alarms me — 
for my own particular interests.” 

“You, mademoiselle Justine?” 

“ I say like my mistress ; one knows what one has, one 
does not know what one shall have ! But,” added she, 
carrying her hand to her forehead, as if to chase away the 
preoccupations of a woman of State, “ let us think only of 
pleasure, joy and Saint Cloud. You know that to-day is the 
fete ? ” 


116 


FLEURETTE. 


“ No ! ” 

“ The weather is superb, and in order to distract herself 
a little my poor mistress, who is very sad, has gone out in 
the large carriage with two gentlemen, leaving us free for the 
whole evening. There is a ball at Saint Cloud ; also there 
are illuminations in the park, there are the' shops and the 
music; how can I tell all the different attractions? Larose 
has proposed to escort me, or I should have carried you with 
me, my little dear.” 

“Don’t worry on my account, mademoiselle.” 

“ You have somebody, then ?” asked Justine with interest. 

“ Oh ! gracious, no, but I will find some companion.” 

She thought of Michelette, who she knew was at that mo- 
ment at home and alone. Michelette, animated by Fleu- 
rette’s energy and sustained by her counsels, had, not with- 
out difficulty, succeeded in breaking off with Pierre. He 
had expected, as formerly, to soften the young girl by his 
prayers, or to frighten her by his menaces. She had resisted 
the former, and braved the latter. 

All the money she earned was confided to Fleurette, an 
inexorable guardian ; and the first time that Pierre wished 
to beat her she had the audacity not to let him, and cried 
out and defended the door of her garret against him. He 
braved her defence and returned ; he found no one. Miche- 
lette had taken refuge with Fleurette, her friend and pro- 
tectress, where Pierre did not dare to follow her, for she had 
threatened him that she would reveal his cowardly conduct 
to everyone. 

Michelette, henceforth easy in her mind, had returned to 
her lodging some days, and was commencing to grow rather 
weary when she beheld Fleurette, who said to her gaily : 

“ It is a fete day ! I am going to take you to Saint 
Cloud, so make yourself beautiful and we will start.” 

“ And our escorts ? ” 

“We will do without any; I will escort you, and give 
you a treat. You have worked so long, my poor Michelette, 
that now you must be amused, and to-day being Sunday we 
have not, thank heaven, to ask anyone’s permission.” 

Michelette’s toilet was soon finished, and the two young 
friends went out together arm in arm, laughing, chattering, 
speaking turn about, and frequently both at once. 


FLEURETTE. 


117 


The Saint Cloud railway took them in a few minutes, 
and at a moderate price, to the park entrance w T here they 
were amazed and charmed by the multitude of promenaders, 
the splendor of the shops and the noise of the music. 

Their pretty shapes and genteel figures procured them 
compliments which they pretended not to hear but of which 
they lost not a word. 

After an hour’s promenade they sought a place to rest 
and turned into the principal walk, whence one could see 
the drive, where they found two vacant seats on one of the 
stone benches, free seats which they hastened to take pos- 
session of. 

But on surveying the persons already seated around them 
they found to their great surprise that they were among old 
acquaintances ; it was mademoiselle Charlotte and a party 
, of girls from the Coquenard shop. 

All fashionable Paris seemed to have given for that day 
the rendezvous at Saint Cloud. 

The places on the terrace occupied by mademoiselle 
Charlotte and her companions were the best for examining 
closely the toilets of the beautiful ladies who promenaded 
on the principal walk, and for contemplating at a distance 
the numerous equipages which passed on the r ( oad, near the 
water, from Sevres to Saint Cloud, and one could also see 
the large ha-ha, which served to enclose the park on that 
side. 

Our young workwomen were good judges of fine clothes ; 
they saw them habitually, and those which at this moment 
were presented to their eyes attracted their attention less 
than the caliches, laudaus, clarences and tilburys which filed 
before them like a procession at Longchamps. Each of these 
rich and elegant carriages excited the praise or envy of the 
spectators. 

“ Oh ! what a beautiful caleche,” said one, “ it is like a 
sofa. How easy it must ride ! ” 

“ Oh ! the pretty little tilbury,” said another, “ one would 
be delightfully uncomfortable in it ! ” 

“ And this one, mesdemoiselles,” cried Charlotte. “ Oh ! 
what a charming coupe ! It must be one of Ehrler’s.” 

" Not at all,” responded the first, “ it is one of Binder’s ; 
I can see that it is his make.” 


118 


FLEURETTE. 


“ Never mind who made it, it is ravishing.” 

“ And this open landau,” cried all in a chorus, it is un- 
deniably the most beautiful ; how suitable the carriage, 
horses and livery. It is admirable ! ” 

“Ah! ” said Charlotte, “if I ever had such a carriage I 
should die of joy on entering it.” 

“And I before entering it,” said Pamela, a petite blonde 
seated beside Charlotte ; “ but I am not lucky enough for 
that.” 

“ Ah ! ” cried another indignantly, “ see mesdemoiselles ; 
that delicious landau, with room for four, is occupied by a 
young man alone — all alone ! ” 

“ What selfishness ! ” said Charlotte. 

At that moment the landau, the subject of so many ob- 
servations and desires, defiled on the route, and an obstruc- 
tion of carriages made it pause an instant at the other side 
of the ha-ha, almost in front of the family bench where ten 
or twelve of these young girls were seated conversing. The 
young man, perceiving them, bowed respectfully and in 
a very marked manner which it was impossible to mis- 
take. 

Charlotte uttered a surprised and pleased cry : 

“Mesdemoiselles, he saluted me! ” 

“Not so,” said Pamela, “ he bowed to me.” 

“ To me ! ” cried each of the others. “ I am certain of 
it, his eyes met mine and stopped.” 

“It isn’t true,” repeated Charlotte, with such intrepid 
conviction that no one any longer disputed with her. “ He 
saluted me, I leave it to Fleurette, who has not yet said 
anything.” 

“I believe, mesdemoiselles,” said Fleurette, laughing, 
“that he was looking at us all, and saluted all at once.” 

This compromise which ought to have satisfied every 
one contented none, and the claims became more livelv than 
ever. 

“Arrange it to suit yourselves,” cried Fleurette, “ since 
you are so obstinate ; I alone could put you right and tell 
you the truth, but I will not speak.” 

“ Speak, speak ! ” they unanimously cried. 

“ You will abide by my decision ? ” 

“ Yes, yesl ” shouted every voice 


FLEURETTE. 


119 


“ Eh ! well, mesdemoiselles,” coolly said Fleurette, “ he 
saluted me.” 

Charlotte uttered a great shout of laughter, which was 
joined in by all her companions, and for a quarter of an 
hour they did not spare their railleries at Fleurette’s intem- 
perate boast, while she, without being in the least discon- 
certed, tranquilly repeated : 

“ As you please ; each of you deserved to be admired ; 
but he only looked at me.” 

“ And what makes you think so ? ” 

“ I do not care to say.” 

The pleasantries redoubled, accompanied by the music. 

* All at once they heard, in the distance, the air of a polka 
announcing that the ball had commenced, and, arising, they 
all rushed "in the direction of the music, forgetting every- 
thing but dancing and pleasure. 

We will not attempt to describe the animation, noise 
and gaiety of these sylvan balls which simply reunite a 
Parisian population, a dancing and joyous one, composed of 
young men, careless of to-day, and young girls, fearless of 
to-morrow, who have often expended their entire fortunes 
on their toilets for this one night and, like the Greek sage, 
carry their all with them. 

Mademoiselle Charlotte missed few polkas or waltzef, 
but Fleurette met with the greatest success. It is said with 
truth that “ the difficulty is in the outset.” As soon as the 
first contre-danse commenced every eye was turned towards 
her; all the dancers, surrounded her and solicited her hand. 
They contended for it, and as it was soon perceived that she 
was there without an escort, without a master, she enjoyed 
all the advantages of youth and beauty joined to that of 
independence, advantages which reflected also upon Miche- 
lette ; and she, who for so long a time had been unaccus- 
tomed to liberty, enthusiastically saluted its return. More 
than once had Fleurette whispered to her : 

“ I believe it will soon be time for the cars to start ; let 
us go.” 

‘>No, no,” responded Michelette, whose ordinarily pale 
cheeks were brilliant with color; “ I am engaged for three 
waltzes yet, and, besides, the last train does not leave till 
ten.” 


120 


FLEURETTE. 


“ You think so ? ” 

“ I am sure of it. Let’s ask some one. “ Isn’t it true, 
monsieur,” she asked of her partner, “ that the last train 
goes at ten o’clock ? ” 

“ Yes, mademoiselle,” he replied, passing his arm around 
the young girl’s figure and disappearing with her in the vor- 
tex of an irresistible waltz. 

He told the truth. The last train always left at ten, but 
what he had not told, this “ false and frivolous cavalier,” as 
romance calls it, was that it was already ten o’clock, and 
the girls were dancing yet. 

Eleven o’clock passed, and still they waltzed. The 
evening was beautiful, the stars brilliant in the heavens and 
the gas in the groves, and the orchestra sent forth har- 
monious sounds. But all at once the latter was hushed, the 
echoes became mute, the gas went out, the ball was over. 

“ Already ! ” cried the young girls. That was their 
first thought. The second : “ What time is it ? ” And when 
they found it was long past eleven, that there was now no 
♦train to hope for, and that they were a league and a half 
from Paris, sorrow succeeded joy. 

Some, more philosophical or less fatigued than the 
others, gaily suggested making the journey on foot, but the 
proposition was indifferently received and badly supported. 

They moved along by the park railing on the large 
Place de Saint Cloud, between the Legriel and Tete- Noire 
hotels. There the coachmen and valets of fashionable peo- 
ple awaited their masters, and cabmen their customers. 
These were their last hope. 

But, owing to the lateness of the hour and there being 
no competition, the public coachmen they hailed were all 
engaged, or demanded extravagant sums to ease their con- 
sciences in breaking engagements. 

How they now regretted the ancient landaus of the re- 
public, the modest one-horse chaise, which was always sure, 
except of arrival, and went at all hours and at all prices. Alas, 
the omnibus has eclipsed it, steam has dispersed the remnants, 
and our ungrateful generation has scarcely preserved the 
remembrance of it. 

As if to plague the tearful young pilgrims many rich 
equipages were stationed at the door of the Tete-Noire , 


FLEURETTE. 


121 


while their owners seated within at the windows of the first 
floor salons, resplendent with light, partook of ices, punch 
or sherbet before returning to Paris. 

As if by a fatality, there was the delicious landau which 
had excited so much praise ; only the top had been raised 
as a provision against the night dews, and the landau had 
become a covered carriage. 

The horses impatiently pawed the ground ; the coach- 
man on his seat and the groon stationed near the door 
awaited their master’s coming. 

Charlotte, taking the proprietor of the Tete-Noire to 
one side, demanded why Saint Cloud, an imperial city, was 
just then so deprived of vehicles that Parisians who honored 
them by coming to their balls were, after two or three 
hours dancing, obliged to return on foot. 

“ Permit me,” replied the landlord whom mademoiselle 
Charlotte’s tirade had at first stunned,” permit ! — we have 
the S6vres boats.” 

“ Boats ! ” cried all the young girls, grasping at this last 
sheet-anchor. “ Let us go ! tell us the way ! ” 

“ Along the river to S&vres. You cannot lose your way. 
There you walk up the principal street to the old post- 
office.” 

“ But that will take an hour ! ” angrily cried Charlotte. 

“ No, only three quarters, going at a good pace.” 

Their lamentations re-commenced ; but willing or not 
they had to submit to their fate. 

“ Come, let us start,” said Fleurette, taking Michelette’s 
arm. Together they started to commence their journey, 
the rest of the caravan bringing up the rear, when a young 
man descended the grand stairway. At sight of him the 
groom at the door of the landau before the hotel ran to- 
wards his master with a light summer overcoat. It was 
the owner of the landau. 

“ Ah ! ” murmured Charlotte and Pamela sneeringly, 
“ since Fleurette knows him, and pretends he bowed to her, 
here is an occasion to demand the use of his carriage of him.” 

“Eh, mon Dieu ! ” said the young man to the proprietor 
while his servant was helping him on with his overcoat, 
“ all the world seems, just now, to have the entree of your 
hotel, and a very pretty world, too. Is it a ball ? ” 


122 


FLEURETTE . 


“ No, sir, it is an emeute ; a dozen young girls ” 

“Who are charming,” said the other, regarding them. 

“ Who ask how they are to return to Paris this evening, 
and I have told them that there was no other way than by 
the States boats, to which, unfortunately, they must go on 
foot.” 

The young man perceiving Fleurette, who, her arm 
passed through Michelette’s, found herself with Charlotte 
and Pamela at the head of the procession, quickly inclined 
his head. All the young ladies courtesied in return, but 
what was the general stupefaction when they saw the un- 
know advance towards Fleurette. 

Charlotte became red and pale in turns ; but this was 
nothing yet, and she thought she would be actually ill from 
spite when the handsome young man, profoundly saluting 
the flower-girl, said to her with an air of gallantry and re- 
spect : 

“ Mademoiselle Fleurette, will you permit me to take 
you, as well as your companion, back to Paris ? ” and he 
saluted her and Michelette. 

It was like a scene in n theatre. A murmur of sur- 
prise and envy came from the whole line. Fleurette, al- 
though modest in her triumph, could not help throwing an 
indirect glance at Charlotte; then, addressing Ludovic, for 
it was he, she said with a gracious smile : 

“ If my friend, mademoiselle Michelette, consents to ac- 
company me I will have great pleasure, monsieur, in accept- 
ing the honor of your invitation.” 

Ludovic made a sign to Gabriel, his groom, who had al- 
ready recognised the young girl, but who had not the habit 
of recognition except when his master permitted it. He 
now ran and openen the door, and lowered the steps. Lu- 
dovic helped Fleurette in ; then Michelette sprang after her, 
and the door was quickly re-closed ; but not before Char- 
lotte, Pamela and the others had had time to see the two 
young girls luxuriously installed in the back seat of the 
landau. 

The carriage disappeared while Charlotte and her com- 
panions were yet motionless before the entrance of the 
Tete-JVoire. Michelette could- scarcely breathe, from sur- 
prise and joy. As to Fleurette, although since her visit to 


FLEURETTE. 


123 


the Durussel mansion she was a little more aocustomed to 
the manners of the great world, she could not help being 
astonished. Never before had she ridden in such a fine and 
handsome coach. Gold, ivory, glass and silk shone every- 
where. Springs, easy and pliable, balanced it perfectly, 
like a palanquin, and intercepted the contact with the pave- 
ment and the jolting of the roads. 

The sky was magnificent, the air warm, although refresh- 
ing and reviving through the rapidity of their speed ; a 
brisk breeze blew on the foreheads and curls of the young 
girls, and Ludovic, seated in front, regarded Fleurette alone, 
and was only occupied with her. 

His companions, recovered from their first astonishment, 
frankly gave themselves up to their joys, gossip and remen- 
brances of the ball. The way appeared long to nobody, 
and before midnight they were in Paris. 

Ludovic first conducted Michelette to her home. 

“ Now,” said he to his coachman,” to the rue de Nava- 
rin.” 

He found himself alone with Fleurette 


CHAPTER XVII. 

At thus finding herself in a handsome landau, tete-art^te 
with Ludovic, Fleurette felt neither distrust nor fear. All 
that had happened during the evening had appeared very 
natural to her, and if anything astonished her it was the sort 
of embarrasment which her companion seemed to exper- 
ience. 

Ludovic without examining his sentiments too closely 
commenced to love the young girl seriously. His love be- 
trayed itself by this same timidity and if Fleurette had 
had more experience she would have easily perceived it. 

“It is fortunate,” she said, “that you should have acci- 
dentally been at Saint Cloud.” 

“ I went there purposely.” 


124 


FLEUR ETTE. 


11 Ah, bah ! ” said Fleurette astonished, “ how was that ? ” 

“ Madame Beaurin, with whom I passed the afternoon, 
told me of your projected expedition with mademoiselle 
Michel ette to Saint Cloud.” 

“ You talk of me with madame Beaurin, then? ” 

“ Every day.” 

“ She has never said anything to me about it, nor have 
you, and when I recall my first suspicions — ” said she 
thoughtfully. 

“ Suspect whatever you will, Fleurette, I no longer 
possess the courage to have secrets from you. 

He then confessed to her that the jewels, which were not 
worth the offering, came from him. He confessed that in 
order to continue to see her, and not to be sent away by her, 
he had not wished to make himself known. He finally con- 
fessed that he had given up Delia on her account and, hence- 
forth free, he offered her, along with his affection, the sweet- 
est and most agreeable existence, in fact all that love and 
wealth are able to give, in a city like Paris, to youth and 
beauty. 

Stopping at last, he impatiently awaited a response, which 
he believed must surely be favorable. 

Fleurette, after a few moments silence, said slowly : 

“ I have listened well to what you have said, Monsieur ; 
it has astonished and interested me very much. ” 

“ Is it true then, “ cried he joyfully,- “that you accept ? ” 

“ No,” said she calmly, like one who reflects. 

“ Ah ! you have a hard and insensible heart which will 
never feel anything,” cried Ludovic, beside himself. 

“You deceive yourself : what you have done for me has 
touched me; I already knew of your separation with madem- 
oiselle Delia.” 

“ And you said nothing ! — are you not somewhat grate- 
ful ? ” 

“ Yes, indeed ! but not enough so for what you ask me, ” 

“ What ! ” replied he angrily, “ all this luxury and opu- 
lence with which I wish to surround you cannot please or 
charm you ? ” 

“ Oh, yes ! ” she frankly answered, “ I have more than 
once dreamt of the magnificence that I was perhaps wrong 
in admiring so much at your house. This beautiful carriage 


FLEUR ETTE. 125 

in which we are so comfortably seated pleases me greatly, 
and I should much like to keep it.” 

“ Speak, it is yours ! ” cried the young man, pressing her 
in his arms. 

“Yes, yes,” said she smiling, “I understand very well 
at what price you offer me all this^ but you will find me 
very vain ; beautiful and rich as all these things are it seems 
to me that in such a bargain I shall give the most ! ” 

“ Undoubtedly ! ” cried Ludovic, lovingly, “ and to my 
eyes your love is priceless.” 

“For that reason,” said she sadly,” it should not be 
bought. I have had an idea, for some days, such as I never 
had before, and which to you and those around me will ap- 
pear very absurd.” 

“ What ? ” 

“ It is to belong only to the one whom I shall love. 

“Ah ! if I could only be the one.” 

“ I do not prevent you from trying.” 

“ But if you do not love me, if you never love me ! ” 

“ Why not ? The first time I jaw you I found you very 
unpleasant. It is true that you then thought my hands were 
dirty.” She coquettishly glanced at her hands, and con- 
tinued : “You see that anyone may be deceived; to com- 
mence with, myself ; for in fact, you are not any wickeder 
than another, you are even better than the majority,” and 
she looked kindly at him. 

“ Ah ! ” cried he joyfully, “ you see, it will come, it has 
already ; you love me, you love me ! ” 

“ No,” said she kindly and regretfully. 

There was doubtless a consolation or a hope in the inflec- 
tion of her voice which reanimated Ludovic’s courage, for 
he redoubled his efforts, and, to decide the affair, employed 
all the tenderest and most persuasive means which his pas- 
sion was able to inspire him with. I do not say that he 
would have succceeded, nor that he had gained his cause ; 
but it was evident that Fleurette, generally so insensible, 
felt, while listening to h^m, an emotion, or at least a senti- 
ment, of pity before unknown to her. 

“Hush!” she said, at last.” We have arrived at my 
house.” 

The carriage was actually.in front of madame Beaurin’s. 


126 


FLEURETTE. 


The groom had knocked, the door had opened, and he had 
returned to the carriage-door, but Fleurette did not get out. 
Ludovic had detained her. 

“You will not quit me thus, and without promising to 
see me again : do not refuse me. Listen ! ” said he quickly. 
“ Wednesday evening, next Wednesday, my mother goes to 
the country. I will be alone, alone in that immense house. 
You know that you can fearlessly come there without any 
danger, you know it! ” 

Certainly,” said Fleurette, seeking to get away. 

“ Then you will come, will you not? ” 

“ Possibly, I do not say no.” 

“ Then I shall expect you.” 

“ I do not say yes ! I will see ; but let me — ” 

Ludovic released her hand, and Fleurette jumped out of 
the landau. The door, in closing itself, let her see Etienne, 
who, screened and concealed by the carriage door, had heard 
the end of the conversation. 

“ I know all,” he said in a sombre and concentrated 
voice. “ But I will prevqpt your being his.” 

“You ! ” cried Fleurette angrily, “ you spy on me, and 
speak to me like that ! ” 

She turned quickly to the carriage, which was about 
leaving, and w T hile the groom was remounting to his seat she 
cried through the door to Ludovic : 

“ I say yes ! I consent ! ” 

The landau was gone ; Fleurette ran through the carriage 
entrance, which was open, and which she closed in Etienne’s 
face, rendering him furious and desperate. 

That day, unfortunately for himself, Etienne had con- 
sented, in order to divert his thoughts, to pass the evening 
at the barrier. He had remained late, very late, in a Ba- 
tignolles cabaret. He played, drank with the workmen, and 
told them his troubles with Fleurette. 

Wine renders one expansive and tender. His friends 
had interested themselves in his difficulties, and, the wine 
helping, had excited him and demonstrated that he had no 
spirit if Fleurette did not end by becoming his mistress. 
The hour for closing arrived, and each started for his^home. 
Etienne said good-night to his friends, and went staggering 
away to the conquest of Fleurefte. Meanwhile, little by 


FLEURETTE. 


127 


little, his spirits became calmer, the fumes of the wine sub- 
sided, and he was almost sober, or rather he was only slight- 
ly tipsy, when he arrived in the rue dt JVcivarin. 

It was then midnight. He reflected that the whole neigh- 
borhood, including Fleurette, was abed, and that he had 
better quietly return home ; a resolution he was about to 
keep, when, at that very moment, there arose in the rue de 
Navarin the noise of a carriage, an elegant landau with two 
horses, a coachman, and a groom ; and this landau stopped 
directly in front of Fleurette’s door. 

The carriage windows were open : he drew near and, 
to his great surprise, heard a voice which was but too well 
known to him. She whom he had so loved, whom he still 
loved, in a superb equipage, at such an hour, tete a tete with 
some rich lord, doubtless that M. Ludovie, of whom she 
had already spoken to him, and who at this very moment 
supplicated her to accord him a rendezvous for the following 
Wednesday, which the coquette did not refuse, or refused 
very feebly ! 

Pie was no longer master of himself, he rushed towards 
her ; and we have seen how disastrous both to himself and 
to Fleurette was his inopportune intervention. 

Ashamed at finding herself thus watched, and surprised, 
humiliated that anyone should think he had the right to 
order her, she had only obeyed the first impulse of pride 
and anger ; she had promised, she was engaged. 

As to Etienne, he had returned home furious and did 
not sleep all night ; but, after having -repeated that Fleur- 
ette was a girl unworthy of him, after having sworn to for- 
get her, never more to speak to her, and not even to pro- 
nounce her name, he had arisen, gone to Charlotte and 
related all to her ; last night’s scene, Fleurette’s new intrigue 
and the rendez-vous for the approaching Wednesday night at 
M. Ludovic’s house, during his mother’s absence. 

And Charlotte, indignant, had exclaimed : 

“ What immorality ! A young girl that we admitted to 
our society, and of whom I made a friend ! I have but one 
piece of advice to give you, Etienne ; It is to do like I shall, 
never see her again.” 

“ I am decided upon that,” cried Etienne, “ and will 
never think of her again.” 


128 


FLEURETTE. 


But he thought of her every day. It was useless to try 
and drive away recollection by working from morning till 
night. The idea of Fleurette arriving at that rendez-vous 
exasperated him and rendered him crazy. During the first 
three days of the week he did not leave the shop, he had 
promised himself not to go out ; but on Wednesday evening, 
without understanding how it came about, without being 
able to explain it to himself, he found himself in the street 
where Ludovic lived, promenading before his house, and, 
at dark, awaiting — whom ? he dared not acknowledge it to 
himself. What was his design ? To reproach her with 
her perfidy overwhelm her with reproaches, and then — • 
and then to hill her. 

The delirium which had mounted to his brain dissipated 
itself for an instant. He was ashamed of himself and his 
project. For fear of again yielding to the latter he aban- 
doned the place, he fled : but he had scarcely got to the end 
of the street when jealousy made him retrace his steps. 

While he had been away perhaps she had arrived with- 
out his having been there to stop her ! Perhaps she was at 
this very moment with M. Ludovic — . He sprang forward, 
he ran himself out of breath, and at the same moment that 
he perceived, from a distance, the door of the mansion — a 
young girl entered it. 

He knocked at the door ; he desired to speak with M. 
Ludovic ; they said he was not at home, that he was in the 
country with madame, his mother. He wished to see the 
young girl who had just entered the house; they replied 
that nobody had entered. Furious, he wanted to remain 
inside ; three or four large lackeys put him out and threaten- 
ed him with the police ; and poor Etienne fell before the 
door exhausted from fatigue and rage. Fleurette was for- 
ever lost to him. 

The morning after th zfete, that evening signalized by 
so many events, Michelette, before going to work, had run 
around to the rue de Navarin to talk over w r ith her friend 
their successes of last night. 

She expected to find Fleurette radiant. She found her 
sad, and, what had never before been the case with the 
flower-girl, depressed and discouraged. She questioned her, 
and Fleurette, ordinarily so frank and unreserved, remained 


FLEURETTE. 


129 


silent. She felt an invincible repugnance to speaking of 
what had happened, of Ludovic’s entreaties, of the involun- 
tary and imprudent promise which she had made, of her 
present regrets, and of the false and embarrassing position 
in which she found herself, — “ and besides,” she said to 
herself, looking at Michelette, “ what’s the use in telling 
her all that, she wouldn’t understand me.” She was right ; 
Michelette would have seen nothing in it but a most au- 
spicious event, a glorious one for her friend, and, as she 
was the kindest girl in the world, she would have sincerely 
rejoiced, and would never have supposed that anyone 
could find in so unhoped for a fortune a subject of chagrin 
or regret. 

Fleurette was not of the same opinion. She felt that 
she was foolishly engaged to a young man ; one who really 
loved her, who had behaved well towards her, and with 
whom, after all, she had no right to trifle. It is true that 
she did not love him, but she was not in love with anyone 
else. She even liked him better than others ; Etienne, for 
example, Ludovic, at least, would not beat her. 

She passed the whole of Monday morning in great per- 
plexity, and without coming to any determination. Tues- 
day was yet more terrible, for it was the next day'that 
Ludovic expected her; and even admitting that she was 
determined to break her word, how could she inform him 
of it, how explain her reasons to him? We have said that 
Fleurette could not write, and to go in person to tell 
Ludvoic that she would not meet him was a resolution as 
absurd as dangerous. Tuesday gradually glided away 
without her having taken any resolution. W ednesday came ; 
fatal day ! she cauld no longer escape from her destiny. It 
was too late no w for her to retract or withdraw. Uncertain, 
discouraged, and forgetting her ordinary energy, she bow- 
ed her head and gave herself up to despair. This time it 
was all over with poor Fleurette ! 

She went out, and slowly descended the rue des Mar- 
tyrs. She, who was ordinarily so gay, so lively, was 
now sad and discontented with herself, and no longer had 
heart for anything; she remained insensible to the beauti- 
ful morning, which was just commencing, and to the joyous 
sun who had already inundated her with his rays. 


130 


FLEURETTE. 


Arrested by a stoppage of carriages she mounted the 
steps of the church, Notre-Dame de Lorette , and paused an 
instant. 

The idea of prayer, the idea of a God whom she did not 
know, never entered her head, and yet, as if in our ego- 
tistical nature pain more than joy reveals to us the existence 
of the Divinity, she felt a vague desire te address herself 
to a superior Being, to confide her sufferings to Him, and 
to ask aid and consolation of Him. 

At that moment an old fashioned carriage stopped at 
the foot of the steps, and there descended from it a great 
lady with an angular form, dressed in black, and with a 
noble, dignified and stern air. Her presence spread cold- 
ness and respect about her. Behind her advanced a young 
girl with a nimble step and a majestic figure. Nothing 
could be simpler or more elegant than her dress; nothing 
more gracious nor more distinguished than her manners, 
altogether it was an exhibition of youth and beauty, of such 
pure and perfect features, that the few persons descending 
the church steps stopped to regard her, and murmured in 
low tones : “ how beautiful she is ! ” 

Her noble old companion made a false step ; she hasten- 
ed forward to assist her, reassured her, and forced her to 
lean on her arm ; and all this with such goodwill and kind- 
ness, and a smile so angelic that those who had already 
admired her beauty said to themselves with emotion, al- 
most with affection ; “ How charming she is ! 5 

While these two ladies were slowly mounting the church 
steps Fleurette had suddenly turned pale ; her lips trem- 
bled, her heart beat rapidly, and her legs bent so beneath 
her that she was obliged to support herself against one of 
the columns. 

The aged lady and the young girl passed by her and en- 
tered the church. Then Fleurette, coming to herself and 
collecting all her strength, rushed after them, crying to her- 
self : 

“ Ah ! my god-mother ! ” 


FLEURETTE. 


181 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

It was early. There was scarcely anyone in the church 
yet. Fleurette had no difficulty in finding Clotilde, which 
was her god-mother’s name ; she had repeated it too many 
times to forget it. 

The two ladies were conversing with a white-haired 
priest who directed them towards a confessional in one of 
the chapels on the lower side. The old lady followed him 
and the young one, remaining where she was, knelt in 
prayer. 

Fleurette, trembling and frightened at the silence of the 
church, softly advanced, fearing to disturb her god-mother’s 
meditations by the noise of her footsteps. Arriving near 
her she tried to speak, but expression failed her. She fell 
on her knees and seized Clotilde’s hand, which she covered 
with kisses and tears. 

“ What do you wish ? Who are you ? ” cried the young 
lady, astonished. 

“ Who am I ? A poor girl who owes you everything and 
who has never forgotten it; Fleurette, the flower girl — 
Fleurette, my god-mother, whom you named — and your gold 
— that gold piece which I have carefully preserved for 
almost four years. Ah ! merciful Father ! ” said she sadly, 
you no longer remember me.” 

“ Yes — yes, my child,” said the young lady in an agita- 
ted voice : “ but speak lower — and first rise ; one should 
only kneel to God. Seat yourself there, near me.” 

Obedient to her order Fleurette seated herself beside 
her god-mother, whose hand she had not released. 

“ I see you then at last ! ” said Fleurette, regarding her 
with admiration mingled with respect, “At last it is you, 
you have heard me ! I have appealed to you so many times 
and have waited so long for you^my god-mother, my god- 
mother, may you be blessed ! ” 

There was such an effusion of tenderness and gratitude 
in her eyes, in her voice and in the expression of her fea- 


132 


FLEURETTE . 


tures ; this gratitude was so real and true, that it was in* 
possible not to believe in it, and Clotilde felt touched to th. 
depths of her heart. 

“ I owe my life and my fortune to you god-mother.” 

“ You are very rich, then ? ” said Clotilde smiling. 

“ Oh, yes ! Very rich, and very unhappy ! No,” said she 
repressing herself — “ very happy, for you are here, god- 
mother, you are here in Paris ! ” 

“ Until to-morrow.” 

Fleurette uttered a cry of regret and sorrow. 

“Yes,” continued Clotilde, with Madame de Keroualle, 
my cousin, who, being ill, has come to consult a celebrated 
physician, and we came to confession together, this morning. 
And you, also, I suppose ? ” she added, looking at Fleurette. 

“ I ! ” naively said Fleurette, “ never ! ” 

“ Never ? ” said Clotilde astonished. 

“ I do not even know what it is, god-mother.” 

“ And who has brought you up, my child ? ” 

“No one but myself.” 

“ And how have you lived ? ” 

“ As I could.” 

“ And have you never,” said Clotilde showing her an 
image of Christ placed in front of them, “ thought of pray- 
ing to God ? ” 

“ I have never prayed except to you, god-mother, and 
you did not reply to me. But I am the better for it to-day, 
it has done that for me. Now you are here, you come to 
my aid, I am saved ! ” 

“Yes, yes, my child,” cried Clotilde, in accents which 
came from the heart, and which must have been heard by 
the Eternal. “Yes, it is not undesignedly that God has put 
you in my way. I will protect you, I will save you ! The 
name of 4 god-mother ’ which you have given me I accept 
before God, and I will perform the duties of one.” 

And Clotilde, herself a poor girl without a friend or pro- 
tector, swore in a low voice to safely guard this other young 
girl, more miserable than herself, whom God had sent to 
her. On her part Fleurette swore to live only for her bene- 
factress. Their two oaths arose to heaven where the angels 
received them. 

“ Now speak quickly,” said Clotilde, looking towards 


FLEURETTE. 


133 


the confessional where her cousin was, “ I have only a few 
minutes to give you.” 

Then Fleurette related in a low voice and with few 
words her whole life up to that day, a recital which Clotilde 
often had difficulty in understanding and which frequently 
made her blush. More than once the young lady put her 
hand over the other’s mouth, and said : 

“ Hush, hush ! ” 

“ Why ? ” ingenuously asked Fleurette, who in this recital 
would only have blamed herself if she had concealed the 
truth and had not told her god-mother all. And Clotilde, com- 
prehending that her innocence was even her justification, 
and that her ignorance must be blamed and not her heart, 
recovered herself and said kindly : 

“ Nothing, nothing ; go on, my child.” 

But when Fleurette came to her meetings with M. Lu- 
dovic Durussel, to the promise she had given him, to her 
hesitation, regrets and remorse, and to the impossibility of 
breaking such an engagement, Clotilde indignantly burst 
forth. 

“ When one engages one’s self to commit a bad action,” 
cried she, “perjury becomes a virtue! ” 

“ What do you say, god-mother ? ” asked Fleurette, as- 
tonished. 

* “ I haven’t the time to discuss it with you here, but 
listen well to what I am going to say. Honor ought to be 
the first law with us young girls ; for it we ought to sacri- 
fice all, even life. Do you understand me?” 

“ Yes, god-mother,” said Fleurette energetically. 

“ Well then, you will not go to M. Ludo vic’s this even- 
ing. I forbid it.” 

“Yes, god-mother,” said Fleurette with such spirit that 
Clotilde comprehended that here was an iron will which 
nothing could break. 

“Well, my god-daughter,” said Clotilde, regarding her 
kindly, “you are good-hearted, you will be an honest girl.” 

“ I will be whatever you make me, god-mother, whatever 
you shall order me to be.” 

“ Here comes my cousin from confession,” said Clotilde 
quickly, “ leave me ! ” 


134 


FLEURETTE. 


“And you leave to-morrow, and I shall not see you 
again ! ” cried Fleurette in despair. 

“ Oh, no, I do not thus abandon the soul which is given 
and confided to me. Come to-day, at four o’clock, to the 
Keroualle mansion, rue de Varennes .” 

“ Very well, god-mother.” 

“ I will occupy myself with you, and will talk with you. 
Just now you asked me what was confession. You have 
made yours to me.” 

“ And since you said to me : ‘ well, my god-daughter,’ I 
feel changed, I was discouraged, but am no longer so ; I 
was without hope, but now I am not.” 

“ Well ! ” said Clotilde with a sad smile, “ leave me, in 
my turn, to ask from God that which I have given you ; 
strength and courage.” And she went towards the con- 
fessional. 

Fleurette walked slowly from the church, constantly 
turning her head to get yet one more glimpse of her god- 
mother. 

The last words she had heard had somewhat decreased 
her joy. So her god-mother also suffered, was unhappy. 
Her troubles, which she did not yet know, were already her 
own ; she no longer thought of herself, but of her god- 
mother. 

In order to keep the promise she had made, she resolved 
in the first place to put in a single package the watch, chain, 
brooch and shawl she had received from Ludovic. She did 
not yet see how she was to return them to him nor how 
she was to make him acquainted with the unexpected change 
in her resolutions, but she had the whole day before her in 
which to find a way. 

The moment she returned madame Beaurin hastened 
joyously to meet her. A chest had arrived for her, a prec- 
ious one without doubt. 

“ Ah ! ” said Fleurette to herself, with a feeling of pain, 
“ a new present from Ludovic ; I will not receive it.” 

Then she thought that here might be the way she had 
sought of returning to him his other presents. 

“Is the person here who brought this chest? ” she asked. 

“Yes; my dear child.” 

“It is M. Ludovic’s servant, doubtless?” 


FLEURETTE . 


135 


“No, my child ; it is an employ^ of the Strasbourg rail- 
way, who is waiting for you to get you to write in the mar- 
gin, as he says — that is to say, to sign.” 

“ Monsieur, I do not know how to write,” said Fleurette. 

“ That’s all right, mademoiselle,” said the man,” You 
can make your mark.” 

“ And the expressage ? ” 

“ Is paid ; it is addressed to you free from Switzerland.” 

“ From Switzerland ! ” thought Fleurette,” Oh beyond a 
doubt it is from William, my friend William. All my 
friends have arranged to came to my aid to-day.” 

It was a small and light wooden chest : she carried it off, 
rajridly mounted the stairs, entered her room closed the 
door and, her heart beating with emotion, hastened to open 
the little chest. 

On toj>, inside, was a letter. 

“ Ah ! what a nuisance not to know how to read ! ” said 

she. 

No matter, she preferred to wait rather than to confide 
the contents, whatever they were, to madame Beaurin ; and 
she went on examining the interior of the box. 

All it contained was a magnificent cluster of blood red 
flowers, something like the blossom of the pomegranate ; the 
leaves were of a persistent and perennial green ; for after 
their long journey they looked as fresh as if they had just 
been gathered. 

The sight of this handsome bouquet produced a singular 
effect upon Fleurette. She had never seen in Paris any 
flowers like these, they were completely unknown there, and 
yet they awakened in her an indescribable sensation which 
seemed like recollection. It seemed, as she looked at and 
touched them, as if she heard the north wind blow and as if 
it was very cold. Memory returned to her at last, and she 
cried, in a joyous voice : 

“Yes, yes, the ‘ Star of the Alps,’ those red flowers which, 
in my infancy, I ran and gathered on the snow.” 

She had frequently talked of them with William and im- 
mediately on his return to the mountains he had sent her 
this souvenir of her Fatherland. The presence of these flow- 
ers, a new proof of William’s friendship, and the position 
she found herself placed in just then threw her into a pro- 


186 


FLEURETTE . 


found and deep revery. Not that she hesitated as to what 
she should do ; she had promised her god-mother not to see 
Ludovic ; that was settled. But how, without seeing him 
and without writing to him, could she make him acquainted 
with the sudden change in her plans? It was impossible. 
On the other hand she felt that not to forewarn him, to 
leave him all the evening hojjeful, expectant and uneasy, was 
wrong — nevertheless it must be done. 

During these reflections the time slipped away. It was a 
long distance from the rue de Navarin to the rue de Var- 
ennes , and she feared being late at the rendez-vous given by 
her god-mother; so she hastened to go out, and walked 
rapidly, but it seemed as if she could never get there in time 
on foot. An omnibus was passing ; she entered it and took 
a seat at the far end of the long vehicle, where she would be 
the least disturbed and could meditate at her ease. Once 
installed in her place she raised her eyes and glanced at her 
neighbor : it was her great friend mademoiselle Charlotte. 

“ Ah ! how smart and cheerful you look ! ” cried the lat- 
ter, “You are beautiful, Fleurette, which doesn’t astonish 
me much. It is a day of conquest ! ” 

“ What do you mean ? ” demanded Fleurette. 

“ Oh ! now that you are a great lady, I suppose you no 
longer wish to recognize your former friends.” 

“ I, a great lady? ” and she shrugged her shoulders. 

“ Mon dieu ! yes. I know all ! ” 

She then related to Fleurette, enviously and maliciously, 
all that Etienne, in his spite, had confided to her : the lan- 
dau scene and Ludovic’s propositions. 

“ Thpt is all true, ” coldy said Fleurette. 

“ I understand now,” continued Charlotte, “ from Etien- 
ne’s anger, that nothing has really passed between you and 
him. I also said to myself: ‘Fleurette is too proud and too 
sharp not to have chosen better ; and I see it is true by the 
promise you have made to M. Ludovic: „to go to his house 
this very day, at dusk, while his mother is absent.” 

“ All very true,” said Fleurette smiling, “ but it will not 
happen, nevertheless.” 

“ What ! would you try to make me believe that one 
would disdain or refuse such a chance ! ” 

“ Certainly ! — and I will prove it to you, if you wish.” 


( 


FLEURETTE. 


137 


“How?” said Charlotte with eager curiosity. 

Fleurette regarded her closely and said slowly : 

“ Would you like, Charlotte, to go in my place this eve- 
ning to M. Ludovic’s ?” 

Charlotte believed her companion was mocking her, and 
indignantly cried : 

“ I ! And under what pretext, for what reason ? ” 

“ To render me a service, one of friendship).” 

“ What is it ? ” 

“ To tell him that I am not ungrateful, that I do not des- 
pise his affection, -but that it is impossible for me to return 
it ; that I ask his pardon for breaking my word, but that I 
am unable to come to his house this evening.” 

“ Truly ! ” cried Charlotte, upon whom Fleurette’s cold- 
ness commenced to make an impression, “ and for what rea- 
sons.” 

“ You could not understand them.” 

11 Perhaps not ; but he ? ” 

“ Eh, well ! you may tell him — that some one he knows, 
my god-inother, has forbidden it.” 

“ That is no reason.” 

“ It is a sufficient one for me. — And then,” said Fleurette, 
drawing a package from her pocket, “ you will return him 
these jewels and this shawl which I can no longer in justice 
keep.” 

“ I understand,” said Charlotte, with a preoccupied air, 
taking the package. 

“ Now then,” continued Fleurette, “ you promise me that 
my commission shall be executed this evening, and that 
this package shall be delivered to him ? ” 

“ I promise,” slowly responded Charlotte, under the influ- 
ence of an idea which just then absorbed her, “ you are a 
droll girl,” she murmured, “ but you are a good child, after 
all.” 

“ And you, also, Charlotte ; I am sure that now you are 
sorry for having misjudged me and that henceforth you will 
do me justice.” 

“ Certainly,” said Charlotte firmly and like one whose re- 
solution is taken. “ Count on me for that.” 

She made a signal to the conductor to stop the omnibus. 
Then she got out, and Fleurette continued on her way. 


38 


FLEURETTE. 


Charlotte promptly executed the shop business which had 
brought her to this quarter. It seemed to her that such a 
bold stroke, a chance for fortune, offered Itself as occurs 
only once in a life time, and that she must know how to pro- 
fit by it. She returned home, made her toilet, in which the 
most studied simplicity was united to the most seductive 
coquetry, and, when her mirror had told her that she was as 
beautiful as possible, she covered herself with a mantle and 
went out. 

At nine that evening she knocked at the doors of the 
Durussel mansion ; she asked for M. Ludovic, and, by the 
direction of the concierge, traversed the court, mounted a 
private stairway and passed through a mysterious door 
which was opened by a handsome young man who had 
waited since one o’clock, his heart beating with love and hope. 

“ Fleurette ! ” he cried with transport, and advancing to- 
wards her. 

“You must no longer think of her,” responded Char- 
lotte coldly ; “ she abandons you forever, and has charged 
me with the return of these tokens of love which you have 
thrown away upon her.” 

It is impossible to describe the surprise, grief and anger 
which in turn succeeded one another on Ludovic’s distracted 
features. Thunderstruck, he fell into a chair ; before him 
stood the young messenger holding the fatal package to- 
wards him. 

Charlotte’s mantle had fallen to her feet and left visible 
a figure, young, slender and rich ; the warmth of the tem- 
perature allowed of her shoulders being slightly uncovered. 
The arm she extended towards Ludovic was superb, she 
seemed to be so touched at his grief, and she contemplated 
him with such beautiful and compassionating eyes that he 
could not refain from remarking that tears, or rather pearls, 
abounded in them. 

She wished to withdraw. He opposed it. It was very 
simple, he must know all the details of this treachery, which 
she did not extenuate : far from it. 

One does not know how far the emotion which follows 
great griefs may go, nor where ideas of revenge may con- 
duct. 

Perhaps Charlotte had counted upon this, 


FLEURETTE . 


139 


CHAPTER XIX. 

The next day a most remarkable fact was the subject 
of conversation in the rue N'euve-Coguenard. 

Mademoiselle Charlotte had appeared at the shop wear- 
ing a gold watch and a turquoise ring and jewelry ; but 
what more than paid for this magnificence, and was greatly 
to her disadvantage besides, was that one of her beautiful 
eyes was horribly swollen, and was almost invisible, enclosed 
as it was, within a voilet circle ; and an enormous bump pro- 
truded from her pretty forehead ; and her nose, chief sufferer, 
had been outrageously beaten and bruised. 

What was the cause, who the author, of this drama? 
One was lost in suppositions and conjectures; the truth 
was never wholly explained. 

A rumor, doubtless false, circulated nevertheless that 
Charlotte in coming out of an elegant mansion where she had 
spent the evening, at a rather late hour, had been assaulted 
by a madman who apparently wished to kill her ; a furious 
lover who had mistaken her for his unfaithful sweetheart, 
and who had not found out the mistake until it was too 
late to stop the effects or to efface the traces. 

In the meanwhile Fleurette, whom we left in the omni- 
bus, arrived in the rue de Varennes : a maid servent, who 
evidently expected her, conducted her to the very modest 
chamber, a sort of cell, which Clotilde occupied in the man- 
sion of her proud and noble cousin, madame la marquise de 
Keroualle. 

Fleurette contemplated, with emotion and respect, that 
room, wherein everything breathed order, simplicity, piety 
and studiousness. 

The Christ in ivory, placed in the centre of her god- 
mother’s alcove, the tapestry frame, the crayons, the piano 
and the books were all things the use of which she was almost 
ignorant of. She was looking at them when Clotilde en- 
tered. She wished to throw herself at the feet of her god- 
mother, but the latter tenderly embraced her, saying: 


140 


FLEURETTE. 


“ Come, my poor forsaken child, you have related all 
your faults to me — ” 

“ And you no longer love me ? — ” 

“ I love and esteem you ; for, where others would have 
succumbed, you have valiantly defended yourself and have 
come out victorous. Among us, who have never had such 
a battle, who would dare to throw the first stone at you? 
Place yourself there, my child, my sister,” said Clotilde, 
making Fleurette sit beside her, “ and tell me what you 
have done since morning.” 

“ I have returned to M. Ludovic, by one of my friends, 
all of his presents, and have sent him word that he must 
not expect me to-night nor any other time.” 

“ That is right. Now, listen to me. It is from ignor- 
ance alone that you have been on the point of falling. You 
must no longer be so exposed. I leave to-morrow, unhappily, 
for Brittany with my cousin. Here is a letter from me 
which you will carry to a worthy woman, superior of a con- 
vent.” 

Fleurette made a movement of fright. 

“ That word should not frighten you, my god-daughter ; 
they cannot keep you there as a prisoner.” 

“ That is fortunate, god-mother ; for being accustomed 
to air and liberty I should die if deprived of them.” 

“I can readily believe so,” said Clotilde, smiling, “but 
reassure yourself, you will only have to go there one or two 
hours every day, and they will teach you to read and 
write.” 

“I shall never learn, godmother; it will take too long 
and will be too difficult.” 

“ Still that is the only way,” responded Clotilde kindly, 
in which, in spite of absence, we can continue to speak to 
each other and always be together.” 

“Ah ! ” cried Fleurette quickly, “ then I will soon know 
how ; if I have to employ all my days and nights ! ” 

Clotilde took her hand, and said : 

“ That is right. But that is’nt all yet.” 

“ Whatever you wish ; order me to do it,” said Fleurette, 
pressing her god-mother’s hand to her lips and on her heart. 

“You have thus far lived like a heathen, like a bohe- 
mian,” 


FLEURETTE. 


141 


“ Are you sure ? ” asked she naively, 

“ Having no religion — ” 

“But you, god-mother.” 

“ And not believing in anything — ” 

“ Except you, godmother.” 

“ That is not enough,” said Clotilde. laughing in spite of 
herself, and covering the other’s mouth with her hand. 
“ You must instruct yourself like a Christian.” 

“ You believe ? — ” 

“ That in order to do so you should attend the necessary 
lessons, and first of all learn your catechism.” 

“ Oh ! ” cried Fleurette, with a terrified air. 

“ It is necessary, I wish it,” responded Clotilde firmly. 

“ Then it shall be done, I agree to it,” cried Fleurette, 
like a person who takes a desperate determination, “ for you, 
god-mother, I can do anything.” 

“Very well,” said Clotilde, satisfied. 

“ And now, god-mother, when will you return to Paris ? ” 

“ I do not know,” sadly responded the young lady. 

“In order to witness my progress, and judge of your 
work ? ” 

Clotilde made no answer, but a tear rolled down her 
cheek. 

“ God-mother, god-mother ! ” cried Fleurette, throwing 
herself on her knees, “ I am a nobody compared with you, 
but if you attach any value to devotion and affection — ” 
“Ah! ’’murmured Clotilde sadly, “my life is lacking in 
that, I am alone in the world.” 

“No longer, godmother ; there is one who henceforth 
will only live for you. It is I. See me, here. What do 
you think ? It seems to me that misfortune with you would 
be sweeter than happiness by myself.” 

Before this cry from the heart, this outbreak of tender- 
ness, there was no longer rank nor distance, and the noble 
young lady found herself, almost without wishing it, confide 
ing her griefs to a heart which so well understood them. 

The world ip unsuspecting of deep miseries ; miseries 
all the crueller that rank, position and education appear to 
render them neither possible nor probable. In such high 
society, such blazoned and gilded salons , one has not the 
right to aj^pear unhappy ; one is barely allowed to exist. 


142 


FLEURETTE. 


Clotilde’s was a case in point. 

Abroad, an object of homage, which her beauty attracted ; 
in private exposed to every humiliation ; a queen in the 
world, a slave at home ; educated under the harsh rule of 
her cousin, madame la marquise de Keroualle, Clotilde con- 
cealed from the eyes of all the kind of servitude in which 
she lived, a servitude which they would have been very 
much astonished had she not appeared grateful for. 

The comte de Keroualle, Clotilde’s father, we have said 
before, died ruined. His entire family, at his death, con- 
sisted of a son, Jean de Keroualle, a rather worthless fellow, 
who was partly the cause of his father’s ruin. In order to 
repair his fortunes Jean de Keroualle launched himself, as 
an adventurer, in hazardous and distant expeditions, and 
had found not fortune but death. 

Clotilde was born after he had left home and found her- 
self, when she lost her father, alone at five years of age with 
an old aunt who had raised her and who loved her tenderly. 
But this aunt, mademoiselle Beatrix de Keroualle, had for 
her whole fortune six hundred livres income, upon which it 
was impossible for her and her niece to live and also provide 
for the expenses of the latter’s education. It then became 
necessary, to her great regret, to accept the generous offers 
of the marquis de Keroualle, chief of the elder branch, who 
proposed to take his little cousin into his family. But he 
burdened himself with his young relative only, and poor 
aunt Beatrix, forced to separate from her cherished infant, 
found in the environs of Nancy a religious community who, 
in consideration of her six hundred livres income, took her 
as a pensioner. 

Scarcely once a year could the aunt, in order to see her 
niece, find the means to make a journey from Nancy to 
Paris or Brittany, but they wrote to each other at least once 
a week. 

To the one, old and sick, it was a proper attention ; to 
the other, young and already unhappy, a consolation ; and 
their letters were the only remedy for the sufferings of the 
one and the sorrows of the other. 

Surrounded- as she was by egotistical and envious hearts, 
who detested her, en famille , and who considered her charms 
and successes as more than mortal injuries, Clotilde, good, 


FL BURETTE 


143 


generous and expansive, was obliged to restrain all the no- 
ble enthusiasm, and generous sentiments which she had 
wished to bestow around her. Even her successes, far from 
making her vain, had often deeply afflicted and humiliated 
her. 

Many a young man of the world, attracted by her rare 
beauty, had frequently been prodigal of ostentatious atten- 
tions, which, upon learning that she was portionless, he would 
hasten to withdraw. 

Her pride, also, often rebelled against the eulogies with 
which she was overwhelmed, and in order to diminish the 
number or the exaggerations of her adorers she herself, with 
a gay smile, would hasten to throw out in advance some 
general phrases which warned them of danger, some indi- 
rect allusion to her poverty, a means which seldom failed of 
proving effectual. 

To many the manner in which a service is rendered them 
more or less frees them from gratitude. Clotilde was not 
one of these. She had never forgotten that the marquis de 
Keroualle, and after him his widow, had offered an asylum 
and protection to her childhood. Neither coldness, want of 
regard, nor even the reproach of benefits conferred (the 
worst of all outrages) could, in her eyes, justify ingratitude. 

Only one compensation for her griefs had for some time 
past offered itself to her; it was the possibility of indirectly 
acquitting herself of services which had until then been 
rendered to her. 

The marquis de Keroualle, as we have said, had three 
daughters. 

Elodie, the eldest, who was married, had had, if not much 
education, at least many masters, of every description. An 
education almost useless, which still had not been altogether 
lost. One person had profited by it ; Clotilde, who had 
studied with a zeal and ardor beyond her years. 

She went less into the world than her cousins, or rather, 
she scarcely went out at all, and the time passed at home 
■was consecrated to a work which had become a consolation. 
She made rapid and astonishing progress, which no one no- 
ticed, and on which no one had ever complimented her. 

After Elodie’s marriage, whom it had been necessary to 
portion, madame la marquise did not conceal her intention 


144 


FLEURETTE. 


of still further increasing, if possible, the economy which 
already prevailed in her household. Clotilde boldly pro- 
posed that she should replace with her young cousins their 
former teachers of the piano, design, history, English, Ital- 
ian, etc. etc., functions which to the general surprise, she 
discharged marvellously, and which saved the marquise over 
two thousand francs a year. 

Thus Clotilde, who was already the companion and 
almost the servant of the marquise, found herself the in- 
structress of the two daughters who, in place of loving her, 
from that day detested her both as cousin and governess. 

One cannot doubt but that this recital, or rather these 
confidences, had been frequently interrupted by Fleurette’s 
exclamations ; but here her indignation no longer knew any 
bounds. v 

“ You, god-mother, who deserve such respect and adora- 
tion, to live thus, in a state of slavery ! while I, poor girl, 
am happier than you ; I am free ! ” 

“ It is true ! But re-assure yourself ; this will not last.” 

“ You have a plan ?” said Fleurette quickly. 

“Yes, when my task ends, when my cousins marry.” 

“That will be never! — what have they to induce anyone 
to marry them ? ” 

“ Their dowry ! Then, when my debt is paid, when I 
shall have at least made every effort to acquit it, this is the 
design that I long ago formed with my aunt Beatrix.” 

Fleurette’s attention redoubled. 

“ There is in Brittany, where I was born and have nearly 
always lived, a place named Saint Gildas, situated on the 
sea-shore, amid rocks, and which commands a view of the 
ocean. There one can breathe a pure and free air. There 
is a pious sisterhood there, consecrated to educating children 
and assisting the aged. I inherited from my mother some 
laces and a ring which I have carefully preserved. These, 
they say, are worth a thousand crowns. For this sum the 
sisters of Saint Gildas will consent to receive me among 
them.” 

“You, a nun ! ” 

“ With my aunt Beatrix whom they will permit to ac- 
company me.” 

“ You, a nun ! ” repeated Fleurette, grieved. 


FLEURETTE. 


145 


“ Yes,” responded Clotilde with exaltation, “I will enter 
into religion ; but a religion active and useful ; which does 
not content itself simply, with praying, but which acts ; 
which serves God by succoring fellow-creatures ; which oc- 
cupies itself with the past and the future, old age and child- 
hood ; which holds forth a hand to the tottering old man 
and to the young girl, like you, in danger of falling. Ah ! 
this will be a beautiful and noble task ! ” 

“ But after all,” cried Fleurette, distressed, “ it would 
be a convent. Let’s see, god-mother, do you detest the world 
then ? ” 

“Not at all,” said Clotilde smilingly, “and this world 
which is just commencing for me, offers me, in the spring- 
time of life, many hopes and charms. How many dreams 
have I already deluded myself with ! what joys have intoxi- 
cated me with their illusions ! how many duties, even, for 
which my heart seemed created, which become pleasures ? 
A household to care for, a husband to love, and children to 
bring up, children who would lavish their caresses upon me. 
Ah ! it is not without regret that one renounces such de- 
lights, and even such dreams ! But, my child, when reason 
speaks it is necessary to submit one’s self, when duty com- 
mands one must obey.” 

“ And to renounce all that,” cried Fleurette angrily, 
“for want of a dowry ! w r ant of money ! when all the world 
around you gains it. Why godmother, have all the men 
this privilege ?” 

“ Why ?” said Clotilde, raising her head, “ it would take 
too long to explain it to you.” 

“ Is it that we women haven’t as much spirit and intelli- 
gence as the men ? How many times already, in my flower- 
girl’s life as short as it has bee^i, it has seemed to me that 
they were not really so strong and clever ! Do you see, god- 
mother, they cannot deprive me of the idea I have here,” 
and she tapped her forehead, full of intelligence, finesse , 
combinations and activity, “ of making a fortune — and, I 
say, a good fortune.” 

“ It is possible,” said Clotilde gaily. 

“ Then why don’t you, who are in all ways so superior 
to me, who know everything while I know nothing, do the 
same ?” 


146 


FLEURETTE. 


“ To you,” said Clotilde, interrupting, “ such a thing is 
possible — but not me.” 

“ Why not ?” 

Her god-mother, not without difficulty then made her 
understand that her name, rank and birth condemned her to 
idleness ; that a common woman could support herself by 
her labors and so obtain, within certain limits, fortune, but 
that for a lady reduced in circumstances it was very differ- 
ent, and that the more elevated the position and education 
she had received from her noble family the less right she 
had to abandon herself to labor, whatever kind it might be. 

Fleurette, grieved but not convinced, silently bowed her 
head, and said to herself : “ If that is the case I will make 

a fortune for both of us.” 

The next day Clotilde and the marquise went to Britt- 
any, and Fleurette obedient to her god-mother’s orders, went 
to her first reading and catechism lesson. 


FLEURETTE. 


PART II. 


Chapter I. 

More than two months had elapsed since Clotilde’s de- 
parture, and if the reader wishes to follow us we ask his 
permission to conduct him into the entrance of the Opera, 
not the one opening on the boulevard, but that which leads 
to the theatre lobbies. 

We will ask him to stop a moment before a small flower- 
stand, neat, elegant, and even slightly coquettish, but very 
small, for it is composed of but a single compartment, con- 
taining only two or three square yards. In the passage de 
V Opera rents are high. 

A young girl is seated among the flowers inside the 
counter ; her serious, even somewhat sad countenance con- 
trasts with her joyous surroundings. For the first time a 
smile is wanting on the vermilion lips; even a few wrinkles 
furrow the brow, ordinarily so white and smooth. 

Leaning her cheek on her hand and her elbow resting on 
the counter she attentively reads and re-reads an open letter 
before her, for Fleurette — it is she — now knows how to read. 
And she can write also ; less perfectly, it is true. Her let- 
ters, grandly designed, still preserve traces of the copy-book, 
and would confine themselves with difficulty within the 
dimensions of a billet-doux\ but they are at least decipher- 
able. 

It must be acknowledged that for over two months she 
had worked as she promised she would, day and night, with 
an assiduity and perseverance which belonged to her. She 
had ceased seeing Michelette and her shop companions ; she 
had also quit going to pleasure-parties, or promenades, even 
on Sundays. 

The commencement had been hard, then the work be- 


148 


FLEUKETTE . 


came easier, till at last through progress, it became a plea- 
sure. She already comprehended that the obligation im- 
posed upon her by Clotilde was a means of success and 
fortune, and this fortune which she now dreamed of not 
for herself but for her god-mother, was the constant aim of 
all her desires, an extravagant ambition if you will but an 
excusable one, for it proceeded from the heart. 

As soon as Fleurette was able to decipher writing she 
hastened to read, to herself read(what happiness !),a friend’s 
letter, William’s, which she had not wished to confide to 
anyone; and she had done well. 

The letter, which she had believed to be simply one of 
advice or counsel, was more important ; she was reading it 
now ; here are the contents : 

“ Mademoiselle Fleurette. 

“I have arrived in the country in good health, and on my 
“ first walk I stumbled in the snow upon the red flowers 
“ which you so much loved and of which we have so often 
“ conversed together in Paris. 

“ Iwill not say it was this which made me think of you, 
“ because I am constantly doing that ; but it suggested to 
“ me the idea of sending you some, believing they would 
“ please you, coming as they do from the country, and, also, 
“ perhaps, as coming from me — although I may be mistaken ; 
“ you will tell me. 

“ I have consulted our cure in regard to this flower and 
“ he has told me its name and written it down for me, or I 
“ should never have been able to remember it ; is the Alpes- 
“ tris Stella , of the rhododendrum ferrugineum family, which 
“we commonly call the Star (or the Bose) of the Alps. 
“It grows only in the snow, he says, at four or five thou- 
“ sand feet above the level of the sea. They last all winter ; 
“ so, madomoiselle, I will send you as many as you want by 
“ Bale and Strasbourg railway train that arrives day after 
“to-morrow, and, as to the expressage, allow me to make 
“ you a present of it. I have fallen heir to my uncle’s estate, 
“ a small farm, and I am rich, richer even than you, which 
“ encouraged me, before my departure, to go and tell you 
“ that I loved you and ask you if you would take me for a 
“ husband ; and all I have wished in return was a reciprocal 
“ feeling on your part, which I doubted. 


FLEURETTE. 


149 


“ You are too young, which is not your fault ; I am not 
“ young enough, which is not mine. You already have, two 
“ lovers. Think if you would like it ! you are virtuous, I 
u know, but that will not last long when one has as much 
“ pleasure in regarding gold chains and jewels as you have. 
* It is this which makes me afraid ; I am unable to give you 
“such things. You would only find here a poor fellow who 
“ has loved you for a long time, and a good husband who 
“ would love you always. If this is sufficent, come ! I await 
“ you. If it is not, do not come ; we would both be un- 
“ happy. It is better that one of us only should be so.” 

This letter so full of reason, which Fleurette had re- 
ceived after her conversation with Clotilde in the church, 
made her look at life under a very different aspect. A hus- 
band presented himself, a brave and honest fellow whom 
her godmother would have advised her to accept. 

But, while appreciating all of Williams good qualities, 
she did not love him, and besides, as we have said other 
ideas' entirely absorbed her just then, ideas of fortune and 
ambition. 

She answered William in as short a letter as possible 
and one which it took several days to compose ; it was to 
the following purpose : 

“ An affair, on which my fate depends, occupies me at 
“ present, my good William ; give me two years yet in 
“ which to finish it. If by that time you still think me 
“ worthy of you I believe I will take you at your word. Until 
‘then, send me every week by the railway a case of those 
“ flowers which your cure calls Alpestris Stella , on condition 
“ you understand, that I pay for them. Otherwise, I do not 
“ want them.” 

Fleurette, as we already know, was economical and ac- 
tive, prudent and bold ; which means that she had all that is 
necessary to success in business, above all in the flower busi- 
ness. which she understood marvellously well. She knew 
what a great part frivolity, fashion and caprice played in 
this trade. — She had seen fashion depart from one shop 
under the most frivolous pretext, and all at once attach it- 
self to another for a still more trifling reason. 

In reading William’s letter a sudden thought had occur- 
to her. She had said to herself that if next winter the 


150 


FLEURETTE. 


fashion, that is Parisian society, would take under its pro- 
tection these Alpine flowers, then almost unknown in Paris, 
her fortune would be made. 

Influenced by this idea she employed all her savings, de- 
posited in the savings-bank, in renting and ornamenting a 
little stand in the passage of the Opera house. 

M. Rymbaud, her former friend, came to her assistance; 
he garnished her small shop with the hot-house plants which 
were indispensable to the business. As to the Alpestris 
Stella , of the rhododendrum ferrugineum family, William 
took care to keep her well supplied with them. But the 
Rose, or Star of the Alps, despite its beautiful purple color, 
excited little curiosity. 

In vain was the stand fresh and attractive, and the pro- 
prietor yet more so ; she was not known, no one came speci- 
ally to her shop, and those who passed before her windows 
did not stop. Her rent, which was considerable, went on 
all the time, while the flowers, whether they were sold or 
not, lasted only a day, except the Star of the Alps, daughter 
of cold and solitude, which continued alive and found itself 
in its element. 

Far from advancing on the road to fortune Fleurette 
had made a bad speculation, and saw little by little Fer 
capital disappearing. 

These were the reflections to which she had abandoned 
herself when we saw her at the commencement of this 
chapter, her cheek resting on her hand, reading William’s 
letter. lie was the least formidable of all her creditors. In 
the first place she did not owe him very much, and then she 
had two years in which to pay him. But her landlord, and 
M. Rymbaud ! — they must be paid at the end of the month. 
— How could she do it? 

Fleurette lacked neither spirit, imagination, nor finesse, 
and the kind of education she had received for some 
months, the journals and placards that she could now read, 
gave her a slight knowledge of advertisement and editorial 
announcements, the means through which one now a days 
gains reputation and merit ; but however cheap things may 
be they are still too dear for those who have nothing, and 
Fleurette was in that very predicament ; her cash-box was 
empty. 


FLEURETTE. 


151 


No purchaser had presented himself throughout the day, 
the clock in the lobby had sounded mid-night. This hour, 
ordinarily one of repose, to-night was of the noisiest. 

It was carnival time, an unusual crowd of masks and 
dominos squeezed through the two passages, and except the 
stands for costumes, bon-bons and pastry all the shops, in- 
cluding Fleurette’s, were closed. It obliged her, sad and 
discouraged, to think of returning home, for she only in- 
habited her shop during the day, and still lived in the rue 
de JVavarin. 

, She thought over twenty projects, each more ingenious 
and impracticable than the other, for saving her commer- 
cial house and threatened credit, and to-night was for her 
the most disturbed she had ever passed through. 

Day was commencing to break when she re-entered her 
shop, and she looked as fatigued as if she had just returned 
frtfm the Opera ball. 

Noise and traffic quickly commenced in all quarters of 
the great city ; already carriages rolled along thevboulevards, 
shops and cafes were opened, merchants were behind their 
counters, and the people who bought, breakfasted, or went 
for a stroll were already at their posts. 

It was not far from mid-day when Fleurette, who un- 
easy, vainly awaited customers, saw enter a small, elegant 
young man, in morning dress, with an easy air and the good 
manners of the financial world ; he was a diminutive ex- 
change-broker. 

“ Mademoiselle, I wish some flowers — some flowers — ” 

“What kind, monsieur?” 

“I forget the name. A kind of flower — scientific — that 
savants only ought to carry in their button-holes, and which 
I intend putting in mine.” 

“ A new kind of rhododendron, the Alpestris Stella f ” 

“ Precisely, mademoiselle.” 

“ Which can only be found here,” said Fleurette. 

“ That is what they pretend. ” 

“ Here it is, monsieur.” 

“ I recognize it. A red flower, a superb red, beautiful 
color — and no odor,” said he smelling at it, “it is astonish- 
ing ! ” 

“ That is it’s nature, monsieur” 


152 


FLEUR ETTE. 


“Ido not say no, but it is astonishing. How much, 
mademoiselle ? ” 

“ Fifty francs, monsieur,” said Fleurette timidly. 

“ Ah, bah ! ” said the young man, astonished. 

“But remember, monsieur, they are brought all the way 
from the mountains of Switzerland, from Righi, where they 
were gathered the day before yesterday.” 

“I understand — the rather that I know the Swiss, and 
Righi.” 

“ You have been in Switzerland, monsieur ?” 

“No, but I have a brother who barely escaped going 
there — fine country ! — beautiful flowers ! — but fifty francs ; 
— it is a fabulous price — without counting,” said lie, again 
sniffing at it,” that it is odorless. I am going to breakfast 
at the cafe Riche ; I will see, as I return, if the Alpestris 
Stella is any lower.” 

Left &lone, Fleurette reflected. 

“Fifty francs!” said she. “ I was wrong; it is too 
cheap, the great world will not patronize me.” 

A moment later there appeared a grave and distingu- 
ished looking gentleman, of about 35 years of age. He had 
evidently left his carriage on the boulevard, at the entrance 
of the passage, for he was followed by a servant in gorgeous 
livery, who remained at the shop-door, apparently being 
barely able to sustain both himself and his livery. 

“ Mademoiselle, I desire a new species of rhododendron, 
the Alpestris Stella .” 

“Here is one, my lord.” 

“ How much, mademoiselle ? ” 

Without hesitation Fleurette boldly replied : 

“ One hundred francs, my lord.” 

The gentleman coolly placed the hundred francs on the 
counter, placed the rhododendron in his button hole, and, 
followed by his servant, walked gravely out. 

“I was Tight,” said Fleurette, “that is the proper 
price.” 

A young man, coming from the faubourg Saint- Ger- - 
main and on his way to the hois de Boulogne , descended 
at the entrance, leaving his horse with his groom, and en- 
tered the shop with an important air ; he wished a certain 


FLEUR ETTE. 


153 


flower which he must have at any price that very morning, 
and which he bought without haggling. 

Next a young attache of an embassy also asked for a 
Star of the Alps, which was indispensable to his promenade 
in the JBois / an admirable flower, he said, which he did 
not even look at, and which he carried away with a 
thoughtful air. 

Fleurette, her eyes radiant with joy, put her treasure in 
her cash box ; but all at once she became grave, and her 
face assumed a serious expression at the sight of the person 
who just then entered her shop. 

It was Ludovic Durussel, who himself turned pale upon 
beholding Fleurette. He had not seen her since the Char- 
lotte episode ; and although his vanity had been wounded 
he did not wish to let it appear, and, affecting great gaiety, 
cried : 

“Is it possible! You, Fleurette, the mistress of this 
modest and charming little shop ! I came to seek an un- 
known flower, and find one that I know, for we are still 
friends, are we not ? ” Then he went on with a forced air 
of levity, “ I am good natured — I was enchanted with your 
treachery, which caused me a charming surprise, by which 
I profited. That little Charlotte, the friend you sent in 
your place, acquitted herself marvellously of her commis- 
sion.” 

“ For some days I have been very happy ; and even last 
night at the Opera ball,” he continued, with a very con- 
ceited air, “ I had an intrigue with a delicious domino, a 
young countess whom I perfectly recognized ; she gave me 
an appointment for to-day, at two o’clock, in the hois de 
Boulogjie. She permits me to accompany her carriage, to 
be her cavalier, and even to wear her colors — a strange 
flower which shone on her domino, the Star of the Alps, a 
marvel which one can only find, she said, at this shop. Is 
it true ? ” 

“Yes, monsieur, “ said Fleurette, somewhat troubled. 

At this moment there entered a young nobleman, of 
from twenty to twenty-five years of age : I say a young 
nobleman for that ought to be the best title for a true 
gentleman, as our fathers understood it : a tall and elegant 
figure ; proud yet mild eyes: gracious and handsome features 


154 


FLEUR ETTE, 


rich apparel and jet in good taste ; and finally there was 
that distinction of manner about his whole person which 
formerly made people say of the dukes de Guise ; “Beside 
them all other princes had a plebeian air.” 

He came in as Ludovic was attentively examining the 
purple leafed flower which Fleurette had handed him. 

“ That is the last Star of the Alps,” she was -saying, “ I 
will have no more until to morrow.” 

“ I take it ! ” cried the young unknown quickly. 

44 Permit me, sir,” said Ludovic, “ I am examining it.” 

44 But you have not purchased it yet, sir,” said the un- 
known, smiling. 

“ I may, though,” said Ludovic dryly ; 44 I came for that 
purpose.” 

“And I, also,” responded the other. “ The simplest and 
fairest way is to put it up at auction.” 

“ There appeared at the shop-door, toothpick in hand, 
the young broker in embryo who had made an excellent 
breakfast at the cafe Riche , and who was now come to see 
if the Alpestris Stella had decreased in price. 

“So be it, sir” responded Ludovic, “‘to the least and 
highest bidder’, as they say in La Lame Blanche . How 
much is this flower? ” he asked turning towards Fleurette 
with the air of a man determined to purchase it” 

“ Fix the price yourself, my beautiful child graciously 
said the stranger. 

“In spite of the numerous demands, ” responded Fleur- 
ette, making the most of her own merchandise/ 4 we have 
irrevocably fixed the price at one hundred francs.” 

“ One hundred per cent, higher since morning ,”said the 
young broker, astonished, and who had mechanically pulled 
out his purse. 

“ One hundred francs ! ” said Ludovic, making a grim- 
ace/ 4 it is dear, but no matter.” 

“I will give two hundred,” said the unknown negli- 
gently. 

44 What are you thinking of ? ” cried Ludovic. Then re- 
pressing himself he added ill humoredly, 44 1 bid five francs 
more.” 

44 Five hundred francs ! ” said the unknown slowly. 


FLEUR. ETTE. 155 

Seeing the silence caused by the general astonishment 
he cried : 

“No one bids more; sold!” And he presented a five 
hundred franc note to Fleurette. 

“ What is that for ? ” said she, pushing it back with her 
hand. 

“ What I owe you, the price agreed upon.” 

“ By you,” replied the flower-girl, “ but not by me. There 
is only one price here, that which I make ; I recognize no 
other.” 

“ Monsieur,” said she, pointing to the broker, “ did not 
wish this morning to give me enough, and now you want 
to give me too much. I do not intend that anyone shall 
bargain with me for either too little or too much. It is one 
hundred francs ! ” 

“ Here is a singular shop-keeper,” said the unknown, re- 
garding her attentively, “ and more, a pretty one ! Let us 
see,” said he smiling, and rolling the note between his fingers, 
there no other way of arranging this affair?” 

“No,” said Fleurette dryly. “A hundred francs ! take 
it or leave it.” 

“ I take it, then,” cried the unknown, seizing the flower 
and putting it in his button hole ; “ and I beg you to send 
one of these flowers to my house every morning.” 

“ Where is it ? ” quickly inquired Fleurette. 

If the other two spectators of this scene did not ask the 
same question they at least made their curiosity manifest 
by their interrogative looks. 

The stranger took out a visiting card, which he deposited 
on Fleurette’s counter, and departed, after graciously salut- 
ing the two young men. 

Glad to know how to read Fleurette hastened to seize 
the dard, and underneath a coat of arms and a Spanish 
device, which she did not understand, she read these words : 
Duke d’Olona, faubourgh Saint Honore.” . 

“Duke d’Olona!” cried the budding broker, “ it no 
longer astonishes me.” 

« Fernand d’Olona ! ” said Ludovic. “ I can well believe 
it ! it is ten thousand francs he should have given you ! ” 

“Why ?” demanded Fleurette, curious. 

“ Why ? ” said the broker, shrugging his shoulders. 


156 


I : L BURETTE. 


“ Why ?” repeated Ludovic, in an ill humor, “all the 
world will tell you.” 

Then the two gentlemen left the shop. 

From that day it was an established fact on the Bourse, 
at the Council of State, in the diplomatic corps, and at last 
even in the fashionable world, that the Alpestris Stella was 
priceless, and that the only place to find it was at the 
shop of Fleurette, the flower-girl, in the Opera Arcade. 


CHAPTER II. 


The duke d’Olona, father of the present young duke, 
was a friend of the marquis de la Romana, of Riego, of those 
brave and noble Spaniards who had defended the indepen- 
dence of their country and the rights of their sovereign at 
the price of their fortunes and their blood. 

And, as a return from the king, who had refused to keep 
the engagements they had made in his name, they were all 
imprisoned, executed, or exiled ; and Ferdinand VII, whose 
crown they had preserved, proved his gratitude by confis- 
cating their estates. 

Entirely ruined, for he had been to much occupied with 
his country to attend to his own affairs, the duke d’Olona 
sought a refuge in the Spanish colonies of South America, 
which were commencing to secede from the mother coun- 
try. There he had met a Frenchman, an exile like himself, 
a general celebrated in the wars of the Empire who, pro- 
scribed by one of the proclamations of Louis XVIII, had 
no other means- of living but his labor, no other consolation 
than his daughter, the angel of his exile. The duke d’Olona 
could not see her without loving her. 

He had neither titles nor fortune to offer her, only a life 
of miseries and sufferings ; she accepted him, and shared 
with a heroic devotion all the chances of his destiny ; exile 
flight, prison, and even war, for more than once she follow- 
ed him to the field of battled 


FLEURETTE. 


157 


The struggle was long ; but, after their triumph, the re- 
publics of the New World, less ungrateful than kings, 
worthily recompensed the general to whom they owed their 
liberty. Not only did they lavish commands and honors 
on him ; not only did they make him president many times ; 
but they also awarded him, and his widow after him, 
national recompenses. They were granted an immense 
tract of land, consisting of prairie, forests and mountains ; 
where later on gold mines, which proved very valuable, were 
discovered. 

Madame d’Olona had but one child, a son, born in the 
later years of her married life, and after her husband’s death 
she consecrated herself entirely to the education of Fernand, 
now her only love. She was a French-woman, and had 
never forgotten her native land, and had therefore given her 
son an education altogether French, an education which 
she never ceased watching over. Able masters were charged 
with the cultivation of his intellect and the formation of his 
mind ; she alone took charge of his heart, and strove to trans- 
mit to him all the noble qualities with which she herself was 
endowed. 

Tired of discord and war, surfeited with ambition, fatig- 
ued with storms, she wished her son’s career to be peaceable 
and happy, and to that end she had inspired him with the 
love of study and art, tastes which elevate the soul and 
ennoble it. 

Above all she had sought to inspire in him a sentiment, 
one held in high honor by our fathers but very rare in our 
own days, that of respect for women. She had succeeded 
without difficulty ; Fernand had but to look at his mother 
and think of all the virtues of which she was a model. 

She often spoke to him of France. Affairs of the greatest 
importance still detained her in America, but she would 
often say : 

“If' we cannot revisit together the land of my birth, my 
son, promise me that you will return there after my death, 
and carry there this fortune which your father has gained by 
his labors and paid for with his blood. It is there, promise 
me, that you will choose your wife ; and there, happier than 
I, that you will end your days.” 

Fernand, embracing her, interrupted : 


158 


FLEURETTE. 


“ Reassure yourself, mother, we will go there together.” 

This happiness was not to be his. A scourge which was 
then prevalent, the yellow fever, carried off his mother ; and 
for a long while his own life was in danger, the result of the 
care he had lavished upon her, 

Nothing detained him any longer in this fatal place. On 
the contrary each step recalled a sad and cruel remembrance. 
To faithfully obey his mother, even though she was no more, 
seemed to him his first duty. He' realized in part the im- 
mense fortune which was now absolutely at his own disposal. 
From letters which came from Spain he learned that the titles 
and estates of his father had been returned to him. He was 
too rich. 

Son of an ex-president of a Republic, he was also a duke 
and grandee of Spain. Better than all he was young, and 
life opened itself to him with all its illusions. 

The respect for all women that his mother had inspired 
him with went to such an extent that the transition from, 
respect to adoration had been so easy, that he was unconscious 
of it. He had a deep and serious reverence for them joined 
to a chivalric and impassioned gallantry. 

In Spain, he had gone direct to Madrid, at the Court of 
the queen, the young duke Fernand d’Olona had achieved 
the greatest success, and at Paris, where he had now been 
for some months, he was the hero of salons , the king of 
fashion. 

They went into raptures over the beauty of his horses and 
carriages, the royal luxury of his mansion in the faubourg 
Saint Honore, the magnificence of his gardens and conser- 
vatories, the richness and good taste of his furniture, but, 
above all, over the picture gallery that few were admitted 
to and of which everyone spoke marvels. It contained only 
portraits, busts and statues of women. Antique groups, 
Canova’s statues, the works of Titian, Tintoretto, Corregio 
and Raphael ; a complete collection of Greuze’s, and every 
day was added some new chef d? oeuvre, ancient or modern, 
purchased at any price. 

A friend of beauty in the arts and, above all, in women, 
he stopped before the outline of a regular profile, a graceful 
oval, a well shaped neck, a supple, elegant figure, or a white 
hand with rosy tapering fingers as he would have done before 


FLUERETTE. 


159 


a handsome picture or a fine statue ; it was not love ; it was, 
as we have said, the worship, the adoration of the beautiful ! 

Besides, his oddities injured no one, and the mania he 
had of admiring pretty woman, had not yet made him an 
enemy. 

The mardchale de Boufflers said to her son : “ If you 
wish to get on in the world make' love to all the women.” 

Fernand had put this system in practice without knowing 
it. In a salon he was amiable and gallant towards all : the 
young wife, the younger girl, and even the grand-mother 
seemed to have an equal right to his homage ; he said, as in 
Demonstier’s pretty verses : 

“ Idune plait , V autre a plu ; V autre commence a plaire ; 

Son coeur , ivre cV amour, cVespoir , de souvenir , 

Adorait le present, le passe, Vavenir ” * 

One may judge whether with such a character, without 
taking into consideration his name, figure and immense for- 
tune, good fortune ought not to attend him. And still he 
had not as yet known any serious passion. Another merit ; 
he was discreet : or perhaps he was too much in love with 
all women to be sincerely in love with any. 

The Opera, it is perhaps needless to say, had directed all 
'its batteries against him ; more than one young nymph had 
for a time enchained, loved, and even betrayed him. Be- 
trayed him? do you say. Yea, verily, himself ; like every- 
body else ! He accepted his reverses and triumphs like a 
perfect gentleman. At parting he would even load the 
ingrate who had deceived him with generous presents ; and, 
resigned to his fate, go away repeating : 

“ He who pleases is king ! he who no longer pleases is 
nothing ! ” 

One evening, at the period at which we have now arrived, 
it was carnival time, he had heard praised the Opera bals 
masques and their celebrated saturnalias, which were spoken 
of freely enough among young men, but which in the fashion- 
able world no one ever acknowledged having been at. 

In a city like Paris a strange young man likes to find out 


* One pleases, another has pleased, the other commences to please ; 
His heart, intoxicated with love, hope and remembrance, 

Adores the present, the past, and the future* 


160 


FLEURETTE. 


everything for himself, so Fernand communicated his project 
to nobody, and, enveloping himself in a large black domino, 
went alone and incognito to the Opera ball. 

He had not been there more than a quarter of an hour 
before he became disgusted. He was one whom such a 
spectacle was the least likely to please, and, tired of these 
ignoble orgies wherein French youth of that day went to 
seek lessons in elegance, politeness and good taste which it 
has since brought into literature and society, the duke 
d’Olona took refuge in the lobby. That only could offer 
him traces of the old bals de V Opera which our ancestors 
loved. Each century to its taste. Then there were no cries 
nor vociferations of shameless women, nor disorderly dances ; 
in fact there were no dances at all ; this was perhaps bizarre 
in a ball, but recommended itself by other merits. It was a 
vast conversation salon where gentlemen and ladies who 
had wit could employ it. Nothing hindered them. The 
liberty of the mask added an additional charm to the viva- 
city of the attacks and repartees. There a thousand piqnante 
intriques were concocted which, even after the carnival, 
were prolonged and unraveled in our salons. Joyous souve- 
nirs which tempered the severities of Lent to our grand- 
mothers. Balls, the horror of the jealous but favorable to 
love : the arsenal of epigrams and bon mots , where French 
spirit recruited itself, and where the gayety was at least not 
opposed to good taste and decency. 

Just now this was not the case. One saw in this vast 
lobby a considerable crowd of ladies in black dominos and 
young gentlemen in evening dress. The elegance of certain 
dominos, the freshness of ribbons, and the wealth of laces 
betrayed the woman of the world who from curiosity had 
wished to see, and who said with Athaliah : “ I have seen.” 
Finding that they had even seen too much, more than one 
had quitted the theatre, where the infernal round went on, 
and had, like Fernand, come to seek refuge in the lobby. 

We have said that Fernand was completely masked. 
Otherwise ladies would have recognized and intrigued with 
him. Already many young men, pursued by their light 
epigrams, racked their brains trying to divine the names of 
their malicious persecutors. 

Ludovic was among the number; a littl® domino, who 


FLEURETTE. 


161 


had escaped him and was lost in the crowd, had whispered 
in his ear a secret which he had believed that no one knew. 

This same domino appeared an instant later at the ex- 
tremity of the lobby surrounded by three or four young 
gentleman following in her steps. 

“ Leave me, leave me ! ” said she, while fleeing. 

“ Fair mask, where shall I meet you again ? ” said one, 
pressing her with entreaty. 

“ To-morrow at the hois de Boulogne . I go there every 
day.” 

“ How shall I recognize you ? ” 

“ By this flower I carry at my waist.” 

“ I never saw one like it before.” 

“ That is because you go oftener to balls than to the 
Horticultural Gardens.” 

“ You are right, fair mask, I am not a savant .” 

“You should become one, if it is only to know the 
flowers.” 

“ While waiting to become one tell me this flower’s 
name. ” 

“ The Alpestris Stella .” 

“ A valuable flower ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Like the one you wear ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ It comes from a lover ? ” 

“You deceive yourself. I bought it just now in the 
Opera Arcade from mademoiselle Fleurette, the florist ; I 
cannot prevent your doing the same, and appearing to- 
morrow at the hois de Boulogne — ” 

“ Wearing your colors ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Beside your carriage ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ And shall I salute you — speak to you ? ” 

“Ho one must speak to me.” 

“ Are you married, fair mask ? ” 

“ Perhaps.” 

“ When, then, shall I meet you again ? ” 

“Here, in eight days. How leave me.” 

The little domino disappeared ; but, an instant after, the 


162 


FLEURETTE. 


young woman, overtaken by another cavalier, had exactly 
the same dialogue in almost the same words with him, and 
then escaped to become once more lost in the .crowd. 

Fatigued with her long and triumphant promenade, the 
little domino in order to enjoy a moment’s rest threw" her- 
self on a divan, not far from the fire-place, on which another 
domino was already seated. 

Under this disguise there was a young cavalier who, it 
was easy to see, took little interest in the pleasures of the 
ball. He had a drowsy, or rather a wearied, air. Why 
not leave, then? We don’t know. But he frequently re- 
garded the clock on the mantle like a man who had made 
an apppintment with his mistress, his friend, or his carriage 
for — say three o’clock in the morning, and who found with 
regret that it was not yet more than two. 

The unknown did not say a word ; the little domino was 
silent. Three handsome young gentlemen, conversing to- 
gether, approached the fire-place to warm themselves. 
They were speaking of a young singer who had made her 
debut at the Italian Opera with immense success. They 
praised her beauty, her talent, and her virtue. 

“ The Duke d’ Olona,” said one of the young men, “ with 
whom I dined to-day, is enraptured with her.” 

“Is he her lover ? ” said another. 

“ No ; ” replied the first, “ he is my friend and conceals 
nothing from me. He has shown me a letter he has written 
to her, and which he will send to-morrow ; a very original 
letter.” 

“ JRbally ? ” said the other two. 

“ A charming, delicious letter, and worthy of him.” 

“ Do you remember it ? ” 

“ Here is about the sense of it ; he first compliments her 
on her voice, and, above all, on her discretion. He encour- 
ages her to persevere, offering her thirty thousand francs if 
she continues to be discreet, sixty if she ceases to be so ; 
and in the latter case gallantly demands for himself the 
preference.” 

“It is perfect,” cried the others, “that alone describes 
him thoroughly.” 

“ That alone,” repeated the little black domino in a high 
voice, “ would give me a very bad opinion of him J ” 


FLEURETTE. 


163 


This phrase launched by a clear little voice in the midst 
of a concert of eulogies produced a singular effect. The 
three young gentlemen uttered exclamations and the cava- 
lier in the black domino gave a start, but reseated himself 
and remained silent. As to the three young men, they 
quickly interrogated the little mask. 

“ Why, fair mask, does such generosity excite your in- 
dignation? If one has reasons, one gives them.” 

“I have some, but will not give them.” 

“ Why ? why ? ” 

“ In the first place because I do not wish to ; ” gravely 
responded the little mask, “ and also because I have an idea 
that you would not understand them.” 

“ That is very complimentary,” cried the young men ; 
and they walked away laughing. 

The little domino wished to arise, but the unknown 
cavalier detained her with his hand. 

“ Fair mask,” asked Fernand, for it was he, “ why have 
you such a bad opinion of the Duke d’Olona? Do you 
know him ? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Have you seen him? ” 

“Never ! ” 

“ You have heard of him?” 

‘‘This is the first time.” 

Fernand experienced a slight feeling of annoyance which 
he was careful not to let appear, and gaily replied : 

“ How do you picture him to yourself ? ” 

“ Old and ugly.” 

Fernand uttered a shout of laughter. 

“ ‘ Old and ugly’ — what makes you think so ? ” 

“ Because he requires money to make young girls love 
him.” 

Fernand bit his lips, and had he not been masked one 
could have seen the blood mount to his forehead. He drew 
near the little domino, and said : 

“You are eccentric, fair mask, but if you are just you 
will at least admit that upon this occasion M. d’Olona’s in- 
tentions are good and generous.” 

“Neither good or generous.” 

“ If you can prove that to me ! ” said he quickly, 


164 


FLEURETTE. 


“ What is it to you ? ” said she negligently. 

“ Much ! ” 

“ Very well ! To offer her thirty thousand francs to 
remain virtuous, and sixty not to, is plainly to tempt her, 
to encourage her choose the latter part — which the poor child 
will probably do.” 

“ Do you think so ? ” said Fernand with emotion. 

“It is always so,” sighed the little domino, “and who 
will be the most to blame ? she or he ? the inexperienced 
young girl or the old man ? ” 

“You still believe he is old?” impatiently cried Fer- 
nand. 

“ Of course. I have proved it to you, I hope,” replied 
she, “ and now, fair sir, I am sure that you no longer 
doubt it.” 

Fernand lowered his head, but made no reply. 

“ He is old then,” affirmed the young unknown, “ and in 
place of being generous he is the opposite.” 

Fernand raised his head. 

“ It is not generosity at all,” she laughingly continued. 
“ He does not give, he buys ; and perhaps even below the 
value. Yes,” she cried with warmth, “ who knows but that 
young girl, like many others, possesses good and noble senti- 
ments, soon suppressed, that are of more value perhaps, 
than all M. d’Olona’s money.” 

Fernand wishes to speak, but she would not give him 
time. 

“ Finally,” she continued, less seriously, “ do you call 
that generosity which advertises itself in advance, or gets 
its friends to do so, whose only aim is to be talked about 
and to make a noise in the world ? Be sure, dear sir, that 
after all it is only praise paid to one’s self ; and if he pays 
dear for it, it is because he has so much gold and still more 
vanity. ” 

Fernand could make no reply ; but as he had more sense 
than vanity, he said to himself: “I am glad my friends are 
no longer here, for she is right.” 

“ I am of your opinion, fair mask,” at length said he 
aloud, “ d’Olona does not amount to much.” 

“ Is it not so ? ” said the domino with an air of convic- 


PLEURETTE. 165 

tion. “ If I had been this old duke, here is what I should 
have done.” 

“Let us see,” said Fernand quickly, “what would you 
have done.” 

“ Without seeking to create an effect and gain notoriety 
I would have simply written : ‘I give you thirty thousand 
francs to help you to be virtuous, or sixty thousand to assist 
you in choosing a husband.’ ” 

“ Ah ! ” cried Fernand, with a warmth which proceeded 
from the heart, “ that is better ! Happily the letter is not 
sent. Yes,” he continued, repressing himself. “ I believe 
they said just now that the letter had not yet gone. Listen, 
fair mask ; I know d’Olona, I will see him to-morrow, and 
hope to make him adopt your suggestion.” 

“ All the better for him ! ” 

“ But,” said he, hesitatingly, “if I succeed I would like, 
fair mask, to acquaint you with my success. How can I ? ” 

She made no response. 

“ Where can I meet you — see you ? ” 

“ Here in eight days, at the next ball, at two o’clock, by 
the corner of this mantel.” 

“Very well, I will be here. But eight days — that is a 
long while.” 

“ It will pass quickly.” 

“Not for me, who find you so charming.” 

“ What do you know of me ? — neither my features nor 
my age.” 

“Yes I do — if I am right you are of a ripe age.” 

“ I ! ” said she indignantly. 

“ Why not ? ” said Fernand, laughing, “ you think 
d’Olona is old ! Let me finish. Judging from the sound 
of your pure and fresh voice, you are young ; from your 
words, you are bright ; from your hand,” taking it in his and 
examining it with the air of a connoisseur, “ you are of a 
delicate and distinguished style of beauty ; that is why I 
wish to see you.” 

Through the eyes of the mask shone a flash of joy and 
coquetry. 

« Which means that you no longer speak for d’Olona, 
but for yourself.” 

“ Yes,” he gaily replied. 


166 


FLEURETTE. 


“Ail in good time — well, in eight days.” 

“ And until then,” said he regretfully, “is there no way 
of meeting you ? Are you going to the Marquise d’Equilly’s 
to-morrow evening?” 

She laughed, and said : “ I believe not.” 

“ Or to the Spanish Embassy, Thursday? ” 

“Possibly. But it would astonish me very much.” 

“ No matter,” cried Fernand, “ I will go. And do you 
not go to the hois in the mornings ? ” 

“ Sometimes. To-morrow, perhaps.” 

“ I will go every day ; but in what part shall I find 
you?” 

“ Seek.” 

“ How shall I recognize you ? ” 

She remained silent an instant, then smiled and recom- 
menced the dialogue we have already heard. 

“You will know me by this flower I carry at my 
girdle.” 

“ Ah ! ” said the duke, examining it, “ it does not be- 
long to this country, it is an Alpine flower.” 

“You are learned,” said she, regarding him with an air 
of consideration, “yes, it is the rhododendrum ferrugineum y 
that they call Alpestris Stella .” 

“ Ah ! you know everything,” said Fernand astonished, 
“ even botany, I have a favor to ask of you, fair mask.” 

“ A favor — from me?” said she laughing, “ Speak ! ” 

“ Eh ! well, for love of science, or rather,” said he ten- 
derly, “ for love of you, give me this flower you have worn 
all the evening.” 

“Certainly not, it might compromise me.” 

“ I understand,” said he sadly, “ it comes to you from a 
dear hand.” 

“ It comes to me,” said the little domino, laughing, 
“ from the Opera Arcade, from mademoiselle Fleurette, the 
florist, of Whom I bought it, I do not hinder you, fair sir, 
from doing likewise and appearing in the bois de Boulogne 
decked in my colors.” 

“I will be there to-morrow, and every day!” cried 
Fernand. “Will you permit me to appear on horseback 
beside your -carriage ? ” 

“ I will, if you can find it.” 


FLEURETTE. 


167 


“ I shall find it,” said he confidently. 

“ In any case,” said she, “ here, in eight days.” 

She arose, and, in spite of all his efforts to detain her, 
disappeared in the crowd. Fernand looked at his watch, 
it was four o’clock in the morning. He had talked with the 
little mask for two hours. 


CHAPTER III. 

Let us turn back for a moment to the evening when 
Fleurette, sad and discouraged, almost despaired of her 
commercial fortune. 

W e left her closing her shop at the moment when the 
bal de V Opera was commencing. She went slowly towards 
her home thinking over ways to make a reputation for her 
rhododendrons and attract public attention to them. It 
was after midnight, and almost the only shops open at that 
hour were those of the costumers. In one of the most 
brilliant of these she saw mademoiselle Justine and M. 
Larose choosing costumes. They also saw her and con- 
sulted her taste in regard to what they should choose, and 
while she was giving her advice many elegant carriages 
stopped before the same shop. 

The occupants of these carriages were young gentlemen 
who, coming from the theatfes, were taking little lorettes 
to the masked ball. The ladies entered a boudoir to try on 
costumes, while the young men remained seated in the salon , 
yielding themselves up to the charms of cigars and, without 
bothering themselves whether Fleurette who was seated in 
a retired corner could hear them or not, they conversed 
with admirable freedom of their loves, their affairs, and their 
innermost secrets. 

Fleurette, who was waiting until mademoiselle Justine’s 
toilet was finished before leaving, at first, like a woman, 
listened from mere curiosity and for the simple pleasure of 
listening. Then, an idea all at once entered her head, a 
sublime and victorious idea, which made her listen fof 


168 


FLEURETTE. 


speculative purposes. It seemed to her that she had found, 
in an instant and in the simplest manner in the world, the 
way to solve the problem which had occupied her for some 
days past. In any case what did she risk ? The loss 
of a few hours’ sleep and the price of a domino. 

She let Justine go away ; then she very attentively re- 
garded the handsome dandies and young fashionables who 
were passing before her ; noted well in her memory their 
names and the principal anecdotes they indiscreetly told ; 
and, an hour later, dressed in a quiet domino, elegantly shod 
and gloved, and carrying at her belt a beautiful Star of the 
Alps, she was in the centre of the Opera lobby. 

She intrigued with all the young fops as she met and re- 
cognized them (Ludovic among the first), piquing their 
vanity or flattering their pride, exciting their curiosity with- 
out ever satisfying it, and above all occupying herself with 
the interests of the florist, for whom she thus prepared a 
numerous and wealthy clientele. 

All with whom she had intrigued had left her delighted 
with their evening and charmed by the delicious little black 
domino ; each believed he had detected an acquaintance in 
her ; one thought her a countess ; another, a marchioness ; 
all, a cruel beauty who, relaxing her severity, had profited 
by the liberty of the masquerade to show herself less severe 
and commence an intrigue, for which this flower was only a 
means or pretext. They all saw in it simply an accessory 
of the romance, while Fleurette looked upon it as the prin- 
cipal part of the affair. 

Success responded to her calculations and hopes. For 
on the next day each hastened to conquer with gold the en- 
chanted flower, the magic talisman, which was to attract the 
eyes of last night’s mysterious beauty. They all sought the 
fair one in the bois de Boulogne , but did not find her. Many 
thought they recognized her, while others, deceiving them- 
selves, had saluted with a passionate regard and an air of 
intelligence some great lady who, completely innocent, had 
answered their salutes. 

The less fortunate ones who had perceived nothing per- 
suaded themselves that an uncle, a brother, or a jealous hus- 
band had compelled the poor victim to keep her eyes low- 
ered, or had even prevented her from coming to the bois 


FLEURETTE. 


169 


that day, so they returned the next day. These were Fleur- 
ette’s best clients ; the shop was not yet well known nor the 
patronage very large, but it was good, rich and distinguished. 
Carriages stopped before the Arcade Entrance and servants 
in livery, the duke d’Olona’s among others, came for bou- 
quets every morning. 

Modest and silent, Fleurette boasted to no one of her 
prosperity, but each evening put away the large receipts of 
the day. 

Meanwhile d’Olona was out every day mounted on one 
of his handsomest horses. He could be seen scouring all 
the allees of the hois de Boulogne and watching all the car- 
riages with interrogative, curious eyes. 

People asked themselves what was this strange flower 
which he constantly wore in his button-hole and, as many 
other young gentlemen had been seen from time to time in 
the great promenade ornamented with the same flower, the 
dandies commenced to bother themselves and to inquire if 
this wasn’t some new fashion, and if it would not be better 
to be among the first to adopt it, without knowing anything 
about it, than to have the air of following it later on. 

Fernand had heard nothing more of the mysterious 
domino. Perhaps if he had met her he would have already 
forgotten her. But the disappointment he had experienced 
forced him to occupy himself with her, and he had now 
thought of her for eight days. So, on the following Satur- 
day, he was seated near the mantel-piece in the Opera lobby 
at two o’clock in the morning. Fleurette was not yet at the 
rendez-vous , so he was obliged to wait, which rarely happened 
to him. 

Fleurette, it must be confessed, had arrived at the ball 
some time before ; but, occupied with her personal affairs, 
she had first given audience to her clients ; who pursued her, 
pressing and overwhelming with questions and reproaches. 
She was not at all embarrassed in answering the first nor in 
defending herself from the latter. There were two things 
innate in her, spirit and coquetry ; and her partial educa- 
tion had only developed her natural qualities. 

A whole day passed in a shop is frequently very long 
and tedious ; Fleurette knew how to shorten it and make it 
pleasant. Since she had learned how to read she had always 


170 


FLEURETTE . 


a book before her on her counter which she would only- 
abandon to reply to her customers and to which she returned 
'as to an old and faithful friend, whom one always recognizes. 
This desire for reading developed itself with such ardor that 
it became her sole passion, and the number of volumes de- 
voured by her in a few months was something fabulous 
She borrowed these books from the Arcade news stand which 
by a rare exception and fortunately for her, contained more 
serious and useful works than romances. At length she had 
read them all ! the serious part of her mind had made her 
appreciate the former and the innocence of her character 
allowed her to read the latter without danger. Besides she 
had already had sufficient experience to enable her to keep 
love and lovers at a distance. As to lovers those who just 
now surrounded her troubled neither her heart nor her head, 
and in defending herself from their attacks or in respond- 
ing to their questions only one idea governed her : to pre- 
serve and increase her clientele. 

She had read in the newspapers that the minister for 
Foreign Affairs would give a grand masked ball on the 
following Thursday. On this bare announcement she 
founded her whole plan of campaign. 

Ludovic was the first to perceive the little black domino, 
at whose waist shone the Rose of the Alps. Taking her 
arm, he cried : 

“ Ah ! fair, deceitful mask, I have gone to the hois five 
or six times and you have not been there.” 

“ You searched badly.” 

“ I haven’t seen you.” 

“ I was more fortunate ; I saw you.” 

“ Why didn’t you wear the signal agreed upon ? ” 

“ You are very curious.” 

“ Why did you not inform me of your presence by some 
sign ? ” 

“ Who knows? in order, perhaps, not to excite suspicion 
so that I might be permitted to come here this evening.” 

“ Ah ! you are charming ! ” 

Thereupon entreaties redoubled, and also coquetries. 

“I wish to know who you are, tell me.” 

“ Never ! ” 

“ What ! You will not make yourself known?” 

6 


FEE C/RE TEE. 171 

“ Perhaps. — Are you going to the minister’s ball, next 
Thursday ? ” 

“ Yes, I am invited. — But how shall we find each other 
in such a disguised crowd ? ” 

“ How ? Thanks to the Rose of the Alps, this flower, 
which we will both carry.” 

“Marvellous, and as everybody unmasks at supper — I 
comprehend.” 

“ Well! till then go, leave me.” 

The little domino disappeared and thirty paces further 
on, met another suitor who held the same discourse with 
her and to whom she made very nearly the same responses. 

She had already disposed of a dozen Stars of the Alps 
for the following Thursday evening when it struck two 
o’clock. She saw that it would take too much time to tra- 
verse the lobby in all it’s length, stopped as she was at 
almost every step by importunate and curious cavaliers who 
detained her, so she took off the flower she carried at her 
belt and, thanks to this precaution, being now able to travel 
unknown, she soon arrived at the other end of the lobby. 
There she saw a domino whose size and figure she easily re- 
cognized, his back resting against the mantel, beating time 
on the floor with his foot and on the mantel-piece with his 
fingers ; he was impatient and in an ill humor, which 
charmed her. He was evidently thinking of, and waiting 
for, her. 

In order to assure herself of this s hewalked up in front 
of him ; he did not even notice her. She drew from her 
pocket a certain flower which she slowly fastened in her 
belt. He perceived it, uttered a cry of delight, seized her 
hand, and forcing her to sit near him on a sofa, as at their 
last interview, said : 

“ Wicked little domino, you have made a fool of me,” 

“ This hasn’t the look of it, since I am here. But if you 
wish to get angry — I will let you.” 

This permission dissipated all Fernand’s wrath, though 
it is true he addressed her some reproaches, but in so sweet 
a tone that one might have easily mistaken them for tender, 
caresses. 

“ Everyday since I last saw you I have ridden in the 
hois hoping to see you again.” 


172 


FLEURETTE. 


“ And I have seen you there.” 

“ I doubt it, fair mask.” 

“ Contrary to the custom of masks I do not speak 
falsely.” 

“ Very well ! ” said he, thinking to confound her, “ how 
was I dressed ?” 

Fleurette accurately described the costums he wore the 
day he came to buy his first Star of the Alps at the Opera 
Arcade. 

“ It is true,” said he, “then why did you not address a 
w r ord to me ? ” 

“ Because though one may converse with an unknown 
domino without compromising one’s self, there might per- 
haps be more danger in doing so with M. le due d’ Olona.” 

“Ah!” cried Fernand, stupefied, “You know me?” 

“ Re-assure yourself,” said she laughing, “that detracts 
nothing from the good opinion of you that our last inter- 
view gave me.” 

“ That night,” cried he quickly, “ when you suggested 
to me such a good idea, which was put into execution the 
very next day ; and I have sought you ever since in order 
to tell you of it.” 

“ Ah ! ” said Fleurette, who could not help being 
moved : ” I knew it — I know all,” she smilingly continued, 
“ and I am now sorry for having been so wdeked to you.” 

“That does not prevent me from loving you, fair mask,” 
said Fernand, “ and that proves — ” 

“That you are kind-hearted, that is all.” 

“Ah ! do not trifle with me any longer,” he exclaimed 
ir. a low tone. “ Duchess of Medina, it is you ! I have re- 
cognized you ; do you recall that in giving me your hand 
yesterday evening you said — ” 

“ A fine chance to learn a secret,” said Fleurette, inter- 
rupting him : “ but be silent, for I am not the duchess.” 

“ Impossible ! it is your very self — it is you.” 

“ If proofs are necessary,” said she, taking off her glove, 
“look at this hand, which you just now spoke of.” 

Fernand seized it and cried, with surprise : “ Ah ! it is 
prettier than her’s ! ” 

“ That is not my fault,” said Fleurette, with a coquet- 
tish modesty. 


FLEURE TTE. 


173 


“ Yes, yes, I acknowledge that it is not she,” said Fer- 
nand ; “ but don’t you know that such a hand is enough to 
make me fall in love, and that I would commit all sorts of 
follies to win it ? ” 

“You have already commenced.” 

“ Listen, whoever you may be, listen to me ! ” And Fer- 
nand, carried away by his imagination, became so animated, 
so ardent, and so pressing that Fleurette, who was unaccus- 
tomed to such language arid had never heard such sweet 
avowals uttered in so tender a voice, felt her head, if not 
her heart, becoming confused with this intoxicating music. 

Happily a thought came to her aid arid helped to dissi- 
pate her dream. 

“ Ah ! ” said she slowly, seeing him almost at her feet,” 
I would only have to say one word, and on the instant — ” 

“ Finish ! — finish ! ” said the duke lovingly. 

Fleurette remained silent ; but she finished the sentence 
to herself : “ I should only have to say : ‘lam Fleurette, 
the florist, a shop-woman of the Opera Arcade,’ to see this 
great nobleman instantly rise in indignation and contempt- 
uously take me to task for the tendernesses he has lavished 
upon me and which I have stolen from some great lady.” 

This thought aroused all her pride, and reminded her of 
the role she had come to play; she once more became piti- 
less, and coldly said to the duke : , 

Are you going to the minister’s ball, Thursday ? ” 

“Yes, certainly a masked ball.” 

f Carry a flower like this to it. We will meet there, and 
I will speak to you.” 

As she finished speaking she made her escape, leaving 
the duke more surprised than ever at the eccentricity of the 
little domino, but also interested, curious, and almost in 
love ; for as he went away he said aloud: 

“ Yes, morbleu! I will go.” 


174 


FLEURETTE. 


CHAPTER IV. 

It was a grand affair, that of the ball ! 

Fleurette, who, thoughtlessly perhaps, had decided to 
puzzle so many people, was not a little disturbed at the re. 
suits of her audacity. 

During the three or four days which followed the scene 
we have just described there came quite a crowd to the 
flower-girl’s. Fleurette saw her cash-box become full and 
was unable to satisfy the demand for the Alpestris /Stella , 
and she had written to her friend William to multiply and 
hasten the sending of those flowers which she bought so 
cheap and sold so' dear. 

But on reflection she commenced to get frightened. 
Not that she feared discovery ; neither the duke d’Olona 
nor anyone else suspected that the history of the mysterious 
domino was simply a speculation of Fleurette’s, and they 
paid her no more attention than to speak to her when mak- 
ing their purchases. 

But what had she wished in the beginning? To draw at- 
tention and reputation to her shop ; to establish an endur- 
ing patronage. And would the twelve or fifteen fashionable 
young gentlemen of the great world, whom she had so com- 
pletely mystified, preserve a sufficiently agreeable recollec- 
tion of this adventure to be often tempted to return to the 
house of Fleurette and Co f 

As to the rhododendrons, the dreams of their prosperity 
which she had enjoyed became dissipated ; next Thursday’s 
ball would see their last triumph, and the minister’s salons 
would probably prove their tomb. 

She felt that this might not be a simple mystification, 
aimless and unremembered ; it might be that they would 
aever know the true answer to the enigma and the adven- 
ture would not cease to excite the general curiosity and so 
hold the spectators in suspense for a long time yet. Oh ! 
then her success would be assured. 


FLEURETTE. 


175 


Nothing destroys the interest like a known denotement. 
Paris becomes enamored of a trial because judgment is not 
pronounced in the court ; and if it never w r as pronounced it 
would be spoken of forever. Something ought to prolong 
the favor of the Alpestris Stella , but the day of the ball ap- 
proached and Fleurette had not found out what that some- 
thing was. 

A valet in the d’Olona livery came the morning before 
the ball to order flowers, ordinary flowers, for his master’s 
house. (We forgot to mention that after the day when 
Fernand had offered five hundred francs for one rhododen- 
dron, which offer Fleurette had refused, she had acquired 
the patronage of the duke d’Olona, which already excited 
the envy of som>e of her confreres, among others M. Rym 
baud.) This valet remained only an instant ; he was pressed 
for time, had errands to go and visits to make, numerous 
visits if one should judge by the three or four packages of 
visiting cards he carried. 

A quarter of an hour after his departure Fleurette, in 
turning around, felt a small package under her feet. It 
contained armorial cards like that which the duke had 
given her the day of his first visit ; only upon these, under 
the words Due d’Olona, were written, doubtless in Fern- 
and’s hand, the directions; “For madame la marquise 
d'Mqvilly” “ For madame de Rinsberg ,” For “ la duchesse 
de Medina ,” etc, etc. There were in all fifteen of these cards, 
which the valet had probably let escape from among his 
other packages. 

“ Ah ! ” said Fleurette, giving a sigh of relief, “ what a 
godsend ! These cards come to my aid and save me.” 

The following night the minister’s salons were splendidly 
illuminated. Next to the Motel de Ville , the Foreign Af- 
fairs palace is undoubtedly the best place in Paris for giv- 
ing a/^e, not even excepting the Tuilleries , where locomo- 
tion is far from being easy. 

Numerous masks wandered without obstacle and with- 
out crowding in these elegant and vast appartments which 
communicated with one another on all sides and which in 
addition to the richness of furniture and splendor of decor- 
ation possessed two other advantages, precious and very 
rare in the Parisian salons of our day, air and space. 


176 


ELEURETTE. 


The due d’Olona, contrary to his usual custom, was among 
the first arrivals. Masked, as were all the guests, he wore 
a Spanish costume which became him marvellously and set 
'off the elegance of his figure. Amidst the diamonds, with 
which his breast was covered, there showed a handsome 
purplish red flower, which attracted much attention. 

The noble Spaniard occupied ^himself chiefly with the 
ladies and their costumes. After having been through all 
the salons ; seeking apparently a beauty whom he did not 
find, he installed himself in the principal apartment and 
attentively examined all the ladies who entered ; queen or 
beggar : Italian, German or Pole. As to the men, he did 
not even look at them ; no matter how brilliant or original 
their costume. 

Fernand, who, as we know, was not patient, had already 
waited a long time and had not yet seem anyone enter wear- 
ing the Star of the Alps, the object of all his desires. In 
retaliation for not having paid any attention to the men he 
he was saluted by a cavalier of the Middle Ages decorated 
with this very flower. An instant later another entered 
dressed in a rich Louis XIII costume, and ornamented with 
a similar flower ; Then came a Circassian with the same 
flower; and at last a Chinese Mandarin, wearing in his head 
dress, in place of the gold button, still another of these 
flowers. 

Astonished at this abundance of Alpine flowers the duke 
abandoned his post, entered the ball room, and there per 
ceived many others. It had evidently been a good year for 
the Alpestris Stella , for he was surrounded by them. But 
the most singular thing about it was that all those carrying 
this flower seemed seeking like himself, an absent, invisible 
object which none of them found. 

There was one moment when in the card-room and 
doubtless attracted by the solitude of the place, at least 
twenty of these Stars all at once found themselves together 
as if by appointment. A general astonishment manifested 
itself ; it seemed as if one could read it on their faces though 
they were all masked. 

“ Pardon me, sir,” d’Olona to his nearest neighbor, an 
Indian, “ are you not seeking a small domino wearing a Star 
like your’s ? ” 


FLEURETTE. 


177 


“ Yes most noble hidalgo,” responded the Indian prince, 
who was none other than Ludovic. 

“ And we also,” repeated in succession, like a melancholy 
echo, the young diplomat, the broker’s clerk, the Louis XIII 
gentleman, and the others, all in brilliant costumes, the 
expense of which they had incurred for nothing. 

“ Nevertheless, she promised me she would be here.” 

“ And me, also,” murmured another. 

“ I count upon her keeping her word.” 

“ Upon her fidelity.” 

“ Each of us has a right to only a twentieth, as I see it,” 
said Fernand, counting his rivals, “ but, after all, we are 
entitled to that much.” 

“ And not to- appear ! ” replied Ludovic. 

“ Not even to show herself ! It is scandalous ! ” 

“ It is unhandsome conduct — ” 

“ Such as the greatest coquette would not indnlge in.” 

“ Ah ! ” cried the mandarin, glancing into the next room, 
“she comes to surrender herself to our just reproaches, for 
at last I see her.” 

They all rushed forward and saw, actually, a charming 
little marquise Pompadour , wearing in the bosom of her 
blue silk dress a beautiful red, star shaped, flower. 

D’Olona, furious, was about to address her, when he 
saw two Neapolitaines coming arm in arm from another 
salon and carrying in their hands bouquets of the same 
flowers. Further off a peasant of the canton of Appenzell 
carried one in her belt, and a Moorish woman wore a clus- 
ter in her hair. 

As they advanced, the duke and his companions of mis- 
fortune should have found themselves only too happy ; for, 
in place of the one belle they had expected, fifteen presented 
themselves to their eyes. But among all these beauties of 
every country which was the little black domino? and, em- 
barrassed with riches, how divine, how choose ? 

D’Olona had entered into conversation with the mar- 
quise Pompadour, but after a very few minutes, he quickly 
perceived his error. 

“ Who gave you that flower, fair mask ? ” 

“ A handsome cavalier, of whom I am proud.” 

“Are you afraid to name him?” 

12 


178 


FLEUR ETTE. 


“ Certainly not.” 

“ Then who is he? ” 

“ The duke d’Olona sent it to me as I was about start- 
ing for the ball.” 

“ Ah ! ” said Fernand, brusquely quitting her arm, “ a 
new mystification.” 

He then addressed himself to the Moorish woman, but 
the first glance at her hand convinced him he was again 
wrong. Never mind ; 

“ Fair mask, from whom came the flowers which shine 
in your hair? ” 

“ From a gallant gentleman, long the enemy of my 
country; but the Moors and Spaniards, are now reconciled, 
as appears from this, for I received this bouquet from the 
duke d’Olona.” 

“ Are you certain, fair mask,” insisted he, “that he sent it ?” 

“ Accompanied by a word in his own hand.” 

“ This is too much,” said d’Olona to himself, and then 
aloud : “ and when was that ? ” 

“ This evening, as I started to the ball.” 

“ Decidedly,” said d’Olona again to himself, feeling the 
blood rush to his head, “ it is a plot organized against me.” 

He just then found himself before a sofa on which were 
seated the two Neapolitaines. He looked for an instant : one 
was longer than the little domino ; but the other had such 
pretty hands and feet that he expected in touching the 
former to at last, reach his vengeance. 

“And you also, fair mask,” said he with an accent of anger 
which he tried to conceal under a gay air, “ you have re- 
ceived this bouquet from the duke d’Olona, have^you not ?” 

“ Only just now,” replied the little mask, “he sent it 
with his card, which I preserved.” 

“ And I also,” laughed the other, “ as an autograph.” 

In his impatience Fernand made such an abrupt move- 
ment that his mask slipped partially off. 

It is he ! ” said the two ladies. 

“Ah ! ” cried Fernand, who had the greatest difficulty 
in refraining from bursting into a passion, “ a card written 
is his own hand. I would like to see it.” 

“ Here it is,” said the two Neapolitaines, each presenting 
him one. 


FLEURETTE. 


179 


Fernand seized them. They were in reality two of his 
cards ; they bore his name and arms ; and, underneath, in 
his own hand writing, on one : 

“ For the Marquise d’Eqvilly,” and the other : “ For the 
duchesse de Medina.” 

“ Ah ! duchess, “ cried he, greatly troubled,” ah 1 mar 
quise, kindly explain to me — ” 

What ails you ! ” 

“ Do not strike a man when he is on the ground. I ac- 
knowledge myself vanquished ; but, after all, deign to ex- 
plain to me what this means.” 

“ What are you talking about ? ” 

“ In reality, whence come these flowers, these cards ? ” 

“We ask you the same question.” 

“ Eh 1 Zounds ! I know nothing of it. I don’t under- 
stand it, it makes one lose his head.” 

“ For so little ? ” said the duchess gaily ; “ keep it yet 
a while, there are so many better occasions.” 

The adventure became still more complicated when the 
rest of the nars of both sexes, whom they encountered at 
the ball, related the details of their adventures. All the 
cavaliers had received a ren$ez-vous from the little black 
domino. All the ladies had received a rich bouquet for the 
ball from the duke d’Olona. They were furious at being 
made the pretext for an intrigue without understanding it : 
the ladies were indignant at finding themselves implicated 
for a bouquet only ; and the men, for nothing. 

Everybody agreed that there was underlying it all a more 
grave and important affair than might at first be supposed 
a plot, which above all it was necessury to clear up. The 
moment was not favorable for this just now, at a ball, but 
they for this purpose agreed to hold a general assembly of 
stock holders of the Stars of the Alps, male and female, on 
the next day at the duchesse de-Medina’s mansion. They 
also agreed, in order not to give the alarm to the author 
of the plot, to make nothing public, and to preserve the 
strictest silence, in regard to the affair. 

Which was doubtless the reason that nothing, else was 
spoken of that evening at the ball, and the next day it was 
all over Paris. 


180 


FLEURETTE. 


CHAPTER V. 

No one was absent from the assembly, it was a full 
meeting, and was tempestuous. They experienced great 
difficulty in coming to an agreement ; first, on the nature of 
the conspiracy. What was the object of it? Against whom 
had it been aimed ? 

In every case these flowers, said the cavaliers, cost a 
hundred francs eabh, and such an expensive mystification 
could not have proceeded from an ordinary person. There- 
fore they must look for the author in the highest ranks. 

Suspicion fastened itself in the first place upon a Rus- 
sian Princess, celebrated for her eccentricities, the Princess 
Lazowkoff. But what could be her reason for sending, on 
the day of the ball, handsome bouquets to all the prettiest 
women in Paris. 

“ A supposition all the more unlikely,” said madame 
d’Eqvilly, “ that she is no longer beautiful and is growing 
old.” 

“ Because she is envious and wicked,” said madame de 
Rinsberg. 

“ And, finally,” cried the duchess de Medina, “ I have 
been her mortal enemy, since the night I waltzed with count 
Zouboff.” 

“And I with her little saxon chamberlain,” said the 
baronne de Norval, “ she did not send me bouquets then, 
but on the contrary swore that she would be revenged upon 
me.” 

“I know it,” said the duchess, “she has everywhere 
repeated that she would revenge herself on us both. Ah, 
mon Dieu /” she continued, turning pale, if we should be 
on the track — ” 

“ What is it ? ” cried all the women, pressing around 
her and offering their smelling bottles. 

“If this was her vengeance — if the flowers were 
poisoned ! ” 


i FLE URE TTE. 181 

The women uttered a cry of fright and the men a shout 
of laughter. 

“ What an idea ! ” cried Ludovic. 

“ Nevertheless, monsieur,” quickly repeated the baronne 
de Narval, remember the fifth act of Adrienne Lecouvreur ; 
one can easily poison with flowers. And in their projects 
of vengeance the ladies of the North are capable of any 
thing.” 

“ But, thank Heaven ! ” said the duke d’Olona,” you 
ladies all appear to be remarkably well.” 

“ This morning ! ” cried madame de Medina, “ but sup- 
pose it is a slow poison, which destroys little by little, 
health and beauty — ” 

The fright redoubled among the ladies. 

“And if one should not experience the effects,” con- 
tinued the duchess, far from being re-assured, “until a 
month — three months ! ” 

“ Till ten years,” cried Ludovic, laughing. 

But his pleasantry was very badly received. Their fears 
became all the greater that some one had observed, and 
even the ladies were agreed on it, that the ladies who had 
received the bouquets were all really very pretty, an obser- 
vation which excited their terror more than it flattered 
their vanity. 

In vain Fernand, in order to re-assure them, reminded 
them that the plot went back to a period somewhat distant ; 
that it had been first directed against the men ; that the 
first attempts dated from the Opera Ball and the black 
domino ; that the latter was small ; that the Russian Prin- 
cess was large ; and that before assaying a complaint to the 
Procureur ” General (as they appeared inclined to do) it 
would be necessary to satisfy themselves, as well as him, of 
the facts and of the identity of the persons. 

These words restored a slight calm to the assembly. 
It was decided that before taking any extreme measure they 
should proceed to an inquiry ; that each of those interested, 
gentlemen and ladies, should seek among his, or her, circle 
of acquaintances and relatives the most minute information, 
and that afterwards they would have another meeting to 
hear the different reports, which would doubtless throw 
some light upon the subject. The next re-union was fixed 


182 


FLEUR ETTE. 


for Thursday of mid-Lent, at the same place, the duchess’s, 
where the confederates were to pass the evening. 

The sitting adjourned, and the assembly dispersed in 
great agitation, a prey to the liveliest curiosity, especially on 
the ladies’ side. 

This curiosity only increased for everything irritated it 
and nothing happened to satisfy it. 

Information secured in regard to the Princess Lazow- 
koff proved that she had left Paris fifteen days before the 
minister’s ball without making any farewell visits, obliged, 
as was also her husband, to return to Saint Petersburgh 
immediately, by order of her sovereign. It was scarcely 
probable that upon going away she had left a power of at- 
torney with anyone to intrigue with the gentleman at the 
Opera ball or to send poisoned bouquets to the ladies. So 
the latter commenced to feel reassured in regard to their 
lives, but they were far from being satisfied yet for they 
still had an ardent and continuous fever, that of unsatisfied 
curiosity. They had all gone separately to Fleurette, whom 
they had questioned in regard to the slightest details, and 
she had responded with great naivete that the day of the 
ball a very pretty and distinguished looking lady, appar- 
ently bright and intelligent, had asked for fifteen bouquets 
of Alpestris Stella at the same time placing fifteen one-hun- 
dred-franc notes on the counter. And the ladies, with ex- 
clamations of astonishment, had said to her : 

“Had you ever seen her before?” 

“ Never.” 

“ Would you recognize her if you saw her again.” 

“ Certainly.” 

“ And who carried the flowers to her carriage ? ” 

“ I did.” 

“ What was the color of her carriage, horses, and 
livery ? ” 

“ It was a hackney-coach.” 

“ Ah ! ” cried the ladies, every precaution was taken.” 

This little history, repeated by Fleurette two or three 
times a-day, profited the ladies little but the flower-girl very 
much. She thus became acquainted with duchesses and 
marchionesses, whom she amused by her chatter, flattered 
by her compliments, and interested by her prettiness ; each, 


FLEURETTE . 183 

before departing, left an order of some kind, and promised 
Fleurette her patronage for the future. 

“ Only,” they would say to her, “ take a more conveni- 
ent shop, one more public and more comfortable. 

“ Oh ! to have the honor of receiving you, madame,” 
she replied to each, with a graceful courtesy, “ one would 
not hesitate — even to ruin one’s self.” 

The gentlemen on their side did not leave off coming to 
Fleurette’s. They took their turns in questioning her in 
regard to the lady of the domino. To them her answers 
were vaguer ; but it was very seldom that at the end of a 
few minutes they did not leave the subject of the black 
domino to talk to her of herself only. Thus, far from in- 
juring her affairs, this adventure had brought her in con- 
tact with all the greatest and most influential personages of 
Parisian society. In place of creating enemies each day 
brought her new friends. 

The history of the Stars had created an immense sensa- 
tion, above all since the fears of the ladies and the public 
malignancy had believed they therein saw a menace and a 
commencement of a criminal process. This hope was un- 
fortunately unfulfilled ; but, as Fleurette had foreseen, the 
interest of curiosity still existed, for the denollment was not 
yet known. 

Meanwhile the anecdote was related in all its details ; 
the name of Fleurette was mixed up in it, incidentally and 
secondarily it is true. No matter! the name was pro- 
nounced, the world knew it, repeated it, and little by little 
she became the fashion. 

As to the affair of the bouquets, Fleurette was completely 
indifferent to whatever might come of it. The effect was 
produced ; and, certain that no one would betray a secret 
she alone knew, she disturbed herself little about the rest. 

Such was not the case with the great ladies, who consi- 
dered it a point of honor to discover the secret. They at- 
tached all the more importance to it because each day it be- 
came more inexplicable : and one should have seen the air 
of consternation expressed by the different groups assem- 
bled in the salons of the duchess de Medina on Thursday 
of mid-Lent when, after the report of each associate, it was 
clearly evident that no one had discovered anything and 


184 


FLEURETTE. 

that in all probability no one ever would. And then to 
see with what irritation and ill-humor the ladies received 
the reasons tending to prove the futility of further search. 

“ Renounce it ; never ! ” said they. 

And in their anger they loudly accused the zeal and in- 
telligence of their friends, and, in a lower tone the devotion 
of their lovers, who had never known them to give the sat- 
isfaction which they now exacted. 

At last, in her impatience and desire for success, the 
duchess de Medina cried out : 

“ Are there no longer any knights ? To him who proves 
himself one by triumphing I will grant as a recompense 
whatever price he demands.” 

“ Even a kiss ? ” cried Fernand. 

“ Even two ! ” replied the duchess. 

This prospect re-animated their courage and inflamed all 
their hearts. 

“ Here is my plan,” said the duke d’Olona. “ The little 
black domino who has flirted with us all, gentlemen, and 
who, I may say, has mystified us — ” 

The gentleman all nodded assent to this statement. 

“ Has up to the present escaped all our researches, but I 
do not yet despair of discovering her.” 

A murmur of approbation arose from the ladies. 

“ Who knows ? to day is Thursday of mid-Lent, the night 
of the last masked ball of the year, the last time she will be 
able to enjoy by herself our disappointment and her own 
triumph ; and, despite the prudence which warns her to avoid 
us, she will perhaps find it difficult to resist the temptation 
of following and listening to us. 

“If she meets us she certainly will not carry the ordinary 
signal, she has too much sense for that; but a gesture, a mis- 
take, a chance may betray her to us, and then — ” 

“ What will you do ? ” cried the duchess. 

“We will surround her and not lose sight of her again, 
should we have to follow her like her shadow all night ; so 
that at no matter what hour she leaves the ball, and at the 
very moment she puts her foot in the street, we will be able 
to capture her and carry her off ! ” 

“ Bravo ! ” cried the ladies. 

“With every regard due to a lady of high rank ; but,” 


FLEUR ETTE. 


185 


continued be in a chivalric voice, 44 I swear I will carry her 
off whoever may be her defenders. And the beautiful un- 
known shall be conducted to my house, where you have all 
agreed to sup to-night.” 

44 Bravo ! ” repeated the ladies. 

“ And at dessert we will have the climax of the adven- 
ture.” 

The applause redoubled. 

44 So then,” said Fernand,” you all promise to sup with 
me at five o’clock ? ” 

The ladies extended their hands. 

44 1 receive your promises,” continued Fernand ; 44 and 
now, gentlemen, let us depart ; it is already late and, not 
seeing her victims arrive, the little domino may take her de- 
parture.” 

Each wended his way separately to the Opera House. 
The duke took with him his body-servant, Morillo, an intel- 
ligent and adroit Brazilian. On the way he gave him his in- 
structions. 

Fernand’s previsions were not altogether devoid of justice. 
Great ladies are not the only ones who are curious. Fleur- 
ette was also. She greatly wished to know what the duke, 
whom she had not seen for some time, thought of her and 
of the adventure. Was she forgotten or detested by him ? 
Perhaps she preferred this last hypothesis, since, to tell the 
truth, his friendship and esteem were not indifferent to her, 
and she recalled with pleasure all he had said to her, and 
above all what he had done for her. 

44 Thursday of mid-Lent,” she frequently repeated to her- 
self during the day, 44 he ought to go to the Opera ball, it is 
the last one ; he will go. If I could only go also ! ” 

She stopped herself, saying : 44 That would be absurd ; I 
must not think of it ! ” 

But she kept on thinking of it, nevertheless, and com- 
menced reasoning thus : 

44 Where is the danger? I could go in a plain black 
domino — there are so many ! no one would recognize me. 
I would not wear the flower he knows so well. If it is nec- 
essary I will not even speak to him ; but if I see him I will 
follow him and listen, he is not very reticent, and so I will 
know all he thinks.” 


186 


FLEURETTE. 


She raised a few objections and engaged in a few 
straggles with herself, in order to have the air of defending 
herself, but she had already decided, and after a few last 
capitulations of conscience she occupied herself only with her 
toilet. 

At one o’clock she was at the Opera ball. For an hour 
she saw no one she knew ; but a secret presentiment told 
her that the duke would come at the usual time and place, 
as if a magnetic instinct had made known to her that he 
would await her there. 

She was not deceived. 


CHAPTER YI. 

At a quarter past two o’clock Fernand left his carriage 
at the entrance of the Opera House, and, followed by Mo- 
rillo, to whom he did not speak and who appeared not to 
know him, he mounted the grand stairway, traversed the 
lobby and arrived at the fire-place as the half hour sounded. 

Many masks were seated about. Only one gave a start 
at sight of him. Fernand remarked it arid, with a silent 
motion, pointed out the mask to Morillo who, according to 
his instructions, placed himself behind the one indicated. 
Fernand turned towards the fire and, while pretending to 
warm his feet, attentively regarded in the mirror over the 
mantel the little black domino to whom his back was turned. 

To-night he was in ordinary evening dress, and unmasked, 
and was accosted by a friend who was not in the plot, a 
neutral power who ought to inspire less distrust. 

“ You at the Opera ball my dear duke ! I understand 
you come on account of the beautiful unknown you spoke 
to me of.” 

“ Oh, no,” said the duke, laughing, “ it is no longer a 
question of her.” 

He looked in the glass while saying this and believed h« 
saw the little domino make a slight movement. 


FLEURETTE. 


187 


“ Ah ! it is a pity after what you told me ; she has so much 
spirit.” 

“ That is true — but she had good reason to wear a mask.” 

The movement of the domino became more marked. 

“ Why ? ” continued the other. 

“ Why ? ” — for an excellent reason,” replied th® duke, 
watching the little domino still more closely, “ it is because 
she is horribly ugly.” 

An indignant movement barely missed bursting forth, 
from the domino but was instantly repressed. 

“ Ah ! she is ugly ! ” repeated his friend, “ I can under- 
stand that that alters the case, and how did you find it out ? ” 

“ I have seen her as plain as I see you.” 

“ It is not true ! ” cried a clear and vibrating little voice, 
with an involuntarily energetic accent. 

The duke turned around, but the little domino, compre- 
hending her imprudence, was already launched in the crowd 
and, in an instant, was lost to his sight. She believed her- 
self safe ; it was not so. Morillo, standing behind her, had 
traced with a piece of chalk a white mark on her shoulder, 
and was following in her track. 

In spite of the crowd which frequently separated them 
he did not lose sight of the fugitive, or, if he did, always 
soon regained it, thanks to the accusing sign she carried 
with her and which constantly revealed her presence. 

Fleurette, thinking that the duke followed her, hastened 
to quit the lobby ; but vainly did she throw herself into the 
ball, into the very midst of the melee , into the centre of the 
thickest groups of dancers ; in vain did she disappear in the 
lobbies and dark corridors ; nothing discouraged the inces- 
sant and inveterate pursuit of her enemy. Once she entered 
a box in the first tier, and waited ; he waited also, and as 
soon as she dared venture out he again followed her. At 
this moment, as he was descending, behind her, the stairway 
leading from the first tier, he encountered Fernand and some 
friends. 

“ Return home,” said Morillo rapidly and in a low voice 
to his master in passing him ; “ now, monseigneur, I will 
answer for success.” 

And, ardent huntsman, he again threw himself on the 
track of the frightened hind he was pursuing. 


188 


FLEURETTE. 


It was late. Fleurette, who for a long half-hour had 
cowered in a stall, behind which Morrilo was seated preten- 
ding to be asleep, raised her head, threw a rapid glance 
around, and, not seeing anyone she knew nor any figure she 
suspected, at last decided to depart. 

The crowd was still immense and she found difficulty in 
opening herself a passage to the stairway of exit, a circum- 
stance which served her projects and also those of Morillo, 
who followed her so closely that his hands almost touched 
her domino and his breath moved the strings of her hood. 
Fleurette at last arrived in the grand vestibule. Morillo had 
calculated that one of the great lady’s servant would be in 
waiting with her carriage, behind which he hoped to mount, 
or, if that was impossible he counted upon his Brazilian legs 
for following or distancing the best horses. But Fleurette 
had no equipage, no horses. 

It was horrible weather. Rain, falling in torrents, had 
succeeded the snow; it was impossible for a feminine foot 
to hazard itself in the street without being buried in the 
mud, so the little black domino, without hesitating or being 
at all dismayed, hastily quitted the vestibule and turned to 
the left towards the glazed corridor which led from the ses- 
tibule to the cue Dronat , a much liked by pedesrians and 
through which people who had neither lackeys nor car- 
riages went to seek a cab for themselves. This was 
what Fleurette bravely undertook to do, to the great as- 
tonishment of her faithful satellite, who arrived at the end 
of the passage at the same time as herself without being re- 
marked or even perceived, owing to the enormous crowd of 
masks and dominos who desiring to return home with- 
out getting wet, cried out, called cabs, and disputed with 
all who successively appeared at the entrance of the pas- 
sage. 

Amid the rain, cries, and disputes, poor Fleurrette had 
great difficulty in making her voice heard. In vain did she 
cry to each carriage that appeared : “ Here, coachman, 

here ; it is my turn.” Other competitors, louder-voiced 
and stronger-handed, stopped the conducter, opened the cab- 
door, helped in the ladies, young or old, whose escorts they 
were and, when there was no more room inside in spite of 
the rain seated themselves beside the coachman who con- 


FLEURETTE. 189 

veyed them the best he could. That was the horse’s bus- 
iness. 

A public coupe arrived at the passage door ; five or six 
already disputed over it and Fleurette would have had no 
chance nor any hope even this time of carrying it off from 
her rivals had not a man of a small figure, but strong and 
vigorous, with polished manners and an honest air, (it was 
Morillo)who stood near her rudely pushed aside the differ- 
ent aspirants, saying; “The carriage is retained bymadame, 
who has waited a long time.” 

“ Oh ! sir, how much I thank you,” gratefully said 
Fleurette. 

“ Get in madame, get in quick,” said the man, opening 
the door. 

And without urging Fleurette rapidly entered the coupe. 

“ Where does madame wish to be taken asked the Braz- 
ilian, with curiosity, holding the carriage door half-open. 

“ On the bouevlard, to the right,” prudently answered, 
Fleurette ; “I will stop the coachman when it is necessary. 
— Thanks, sir.” 

And the door was closed. 

At last, after an evening so agitated and so full of incid- 
ents, Fleurette found herself alone : she could breathe freely 
and reflect. Overcome with fatigue, she allowed herself to 
fall back in the carriage and did not remark that the man 
with the honest appearance had quickly placed himself be- 
side the driver, to whom he spoke in low and rapid voice. 
She was awakened from her rerery by an unusal fact ; 
the hired horse which conducted her was going so fast that 
he passed all the private carriages which had preceded him. 

She lowered the glass and called to the coachman : 

“ Where are you going ? ” 

He made no other reply than to whip up his horse. 

“ Stop ! this is not the way.” 

The same silence, and redoubled blows of the whip. 
Fleurette then p received that the coachman was not alone 
on his seat. Far from frightening her, this reasured her ; 
for if the coachman was drunk, as everything indicated, she 
would have some one to defend her. So it was to her protec- 
tor that she now addressed herself asking him to order the 
driver to stop. He, having his back to her, did not, or ap- 


190 


FLEURETTE. 


peared not, to hear ; on the contrary he seemed to acceler- 
ate with gestures the already rapid gait of the horse, who 
appeared not to relish this sudden change in his habits. 

Fleurette was not easily frightened ; but this persistance 
in not answering her began to alarm her. The rain seemed 
to fall as it had never fallen before, and the boulevard had 
became, as usual, a lake of thick yellow mud frightful to 
pedestrians. It was, besides, owing to the rapidity of the 
carriage, impossible to dream of jumping out without sus- 
taining great injury. She looked through the window; she 
was in the centrail boulevard and already opposite the Mad- 
eline; the coup6 turned to the right into the faubourg 
Saint Houorb, just then crowded with carriages although 
the hour was so late. 

On the right and left sides of the road stood brilliant 
mansions with open entrances, allowing a whole world of 
porters and valets in livery to be seen. 

Fleurette, putting her head out of the window, was ab- 
out to call for help when the coupe, quitting the street, 
turned all at once to the left, and so suddently that it barely 
missed overturning. That was nothing. At full gallop it 
entered the court yard of a magnificent mansion and the 
gates were immediatly closed after it. The carriage stop- 
ped ; Fleurette jumped out and found herself face to face 
with the honest man whose aid had procured her the coupA 
He saluted her with respect and offered her his hand which 
she repulsed. 

“ Sir, what does this mean ? such an unheard of proceed- 
ing?” 

“ Simply madame an invitaion to supper.” 

“ Answer me, sir, “ said she angrily,” where am I? ” 

“ At the house of a person who waits supper for you, 
and who has gotten up a grand fete in order to present you 
to his numerous guests.” 

“ There is a mistake, I am not expected anywhere,” said 
she quickly, “ let me go.” 

“ Impossible, before supper ; afterwards, I can not say ; 
that will depend on my master.” 

“ Ah ! you have a master ! I wish to speak to him,” she 
cried instantly 


FLEUR ETTE. 191 

“ At your orders, madame,” responded ne, bowing. “ I 
am about to have the honer of conducting you to him.” 

He went before and led her through appartments splen- 
didly lighted up, galleries, salons and boudoirs in which 
shone every marvel of luxury and art. But she paid no at- 
tention to the rich carpets under her feet, the walls resplend- 
ent in gold and marble, nor the treasures of sculpture and 
painting which on all sides presented themselves ; she saw 
nothing, so great were her impatience and anger. At last 
Morillo stopped before a door which after knocking at it dis- 
creetly, he opened, and ushered Fleurette into a bed-chamber 
deliciously furnished. This apartment, which was situated 
at one end of the house and looked upon the gardens, was 
lit by a single lamp placed on a table. 

Hear this table, at one corrner of the fire-place, a man 
was seated, his back turned to the door, reading a book. 

“ Your grace,” said the Brazilian respectfully, “ here is 
the captive I promised you.” 

The duke quickly arose; Fleurette uttered a cry and, 
staggering, supported herself against a piece of furniture ; 
she recognized the duke d’Olona. 


CHAPTER VII. 

On receiving a signal from his master the servant re- 
retired. Fernand advanced towards the black domino and 
contemplated her for a moment in silence ; but, seeing her 
tremble and with difficulty keep herself up, the pleasure of 
the revenge he had promised himself was partly dissipated. 
He offered her his hand, which she silently accepted, con- 
ducted her to the corner of the fire-place, installed her in an 
easy chair, and, standing opposite to her, said slowly : 

“ Whatever desire I may have to know who is the per- 
son who has so maliciously and perseveringly trifled with us 
all, the respect I owe a woman, even my enemy, prevents my 
seeking to lift this mask ; please then, madame to take it off 
yourself, and show me your features.” 


192 


FLEURETTE. 


The little domino, as if overcome with confusion, 
lowered her head and. made no reply. 

“ I am ignorant who you are, madame,” continued the 
duke : “ but the state in which I see you at present, the 
terror you experience at being known tells me sufficently 
well that your name and rank are such as may not be com- 
promised with impunity. Please, then, listen to me.” 

“ You have seriously wounded, for wbat purpose we will 
soon know, the vanity of young gentleman who seldom par- 
don and, above all, great ladies, your rivals or friends, who 
never forgive.” 

“ In an hour,” he continued, looking at the clock on the 
mantel,” they will all be here ; they come to take supper 
with me expecting to find you here, for I have promised 
them to deliver you over to their kindness to-night, and I 
always keep my promises. Then your fate will be in their 
hands ; as yet it is iii mine only.” 

“ Come, reflect,” said he in a voice which, in spite of 
himself, became kinder, “it is I whom you have most 
cruelly offended ; it is I, fair mask, with whom you have 
trifled the most unworthily, and yet I imagine that it would 
be better for you. to trust to me, to my sternness, than to 
the clemency of the ladies. Meanwhile, you may choose.” 

All through this address the domino remained silent, 
but one could see that she hesitated, and that a struggle was 
going on within her. 

“ I am afraid,” continued the duke, smiling, “ that my 
clients may be pitiless, and they really have a right to call 
you to account: I, who have less of reveng and even of 
vanity at heart, for my part feel that your former offences 
are more than expiated — by your present sufferings.” 

“ I shall never forgive myself,” faid he, seeingthe quick 
throbbing of her bosom, which stirred the ribbons of her 
domino, “ at having made a woman tremble; much more, to 
have seen her trembling without seeking to reasure her. ” 

“ Let me see,” he continued, with ineffable good will, 
“tell me whether, without betraying the interests of my 
clients. I cannot serve yours, and whether, thanks to me, 
this supper which has commenced by a declaration of war 
may not end in a treaty of peace. Confide in me, tell me what 
I can say, what I can do, to save a great lady such as you, 


FLEURETTE 


193 


to extenuate, to justify your actions, and you will find that 
in place of an enemy you will have in me only a friend.” 

Fleurette tore off her mask, and threw herself at the 
duke’s feet. He hastened to raise her, and, regarding her 
features in the light of the lamps for a moment, he cried 
out : 

Fleurette ! — Fleurette, the flower girl ! he repeated with 
shout of laughter. “ Yes, indeed ; it is she, I recognize her. 
“ Oh ! what an adventure, and what a charming supper we 
shall have.” 

“ How, monsieur ! ” said Fleurette, “ what do yon mean ? ” 

“Eh, parbleu /” he gaily replied, “ I mean to deliver 
the culprit to her judges, I have sworn it, and since it is not 
a great lady, since the adventure compromises nobody — ” 

“ And 7, sir ? ” cried Fleurette in distress. 

“ You, my shild ? you have wished it, you have merited 
it. To think of mystifying people who have never done 
anything to you, and to take for the object of a carnival 
joke all the leaders of Parisian society. And if all you get 
for a punishment is a little confusion, where will be the 
harm ? ” 

“ It is true, it is true, I deserve to be punished ; but if 
I am lost, forever lost will not the punishment be much 
greater than the fault ? ” 

She then related to him how, alone in the world, poor 
and without resources, she had had the idea of advertising, 
and gaining custom for her flower-stand. She acknowl- 
edged that the ruse employed by her, coming from a young 
girl might appear bold and audacious ; but, after all, she 
had, like many others, speculated on the vanity and self- 
esteem of handsome young men who flattered themselves 
by thinking to find in her the couquest of some great lady. 
As to her flowers, she forced no one to buy them, and she 
had refused, as he knew in the case of himself and Ludovic, 
the exaggerated price which love, curiosity and pride had 
frequently urged upon her. 

“ I was wrong,” she continued, “I did not think of the 
results of such a ruse ; and I do not doubt that this ought 
to excite your indignation, monsieur le clue , and also that of 
the noble ladies to "whose vengence you have sworn to aban- 
don me. Do it then ; you have the right and the power 

13 


- I 


194 FLEUR ETTE 

but if a poor girls happiness is necessary to enliven your 
supper ; if, in disclosing my secret to them, you deliver me 
up to all their railleies ; if, in addition, the ridicule and dis- 
closure of this scene takes the custom of these great ladies 
away from me and withdraws, forever, the rich patronage 
they have commenced to give me ; and if, finally, it is all 
over with my humble fortune and future, will you have 
nothing to reproach yourself with monsieur le due f ” 

“I!” responded Fernand haughtily, and yet a little 
moved in spite of herself. 

“ What chances remain, then,” she continued, “I do not 
say to enrich herself, but simply to gain her living, to the 
poor girl who wishes to live honestly ? And yet these 
elegant young gentlemen are pitiless, and blame me for 
having acted the coquette towards them ; they would blame 
less, perhaps, had I gone further. They consider the flowers 
I have sold them a crime ; yet they would not reproach 
me at all,” cried she with energy, “ they would approve of 
me, had I sold myself ! ” 

While she was thus speaking the hood of her domino 
slipped off, her long hair became unloosened and fell over her 
shoulders, her manner was proud, her gestures noble, and 
her eyes animated ; she was beautiful. 

The duke had witnessed with astonishment not only the 
warmth of her speech, but also the art and address with 
which she had presented and arrayed all her method of 
defence. 

“ Fleurette,” he replied, “you are a good advocate, but 
you have a bad cause. For a month you have fooled all 
our salons turned all our heads and excited everyone’s curi- 
osity with a talent which I recognize, with an address which 
I do not blame, but which has stimulated our own. It was 
a challenge, a contest : on your part, to guard your secret ; 
on ours, to discover it, long sucessful, you are at last van- 
quished. It is the chance of war. For the ladies on our 
side the great prize of the battle is the key to the enigma, 
your secret, and nothing else ; but they demand that first 
and above all.” 

“ It would ruin me,” she cried quickly ; “ and you will 
not disclose my secret?” 

“ What else oan I do ? ” 


FLEURETTE . 195 

“ You can keep it to yourself. It is to you only I would 
Have confided it.” 

“ And my reputation for address and spirit ? ” said the 
duke smiling. “ I have loudly boasted that I would discover 
this secret, and would have to acknowledge that I had com- 
pletely failed ; an acknowledgement always difficult to a 
young man’s self-esteem. — But suppose it was not only a 
question of vanity in the present case — suppose it de- 
manded a great and cruel sacrifice — ” 

“ What does this mean?” asked Fleurette, alarmed. 

“ Oh ! yes, certainly,” replied the duke, seating himself 
near her, “ you think only of yourself, Fleurette : but if I 
should tell you that in case I discovered this secret, the 
object of so many desires, a great lady had promised me a 
kiss, two kisses even, and if this great lady should be the one 
I love, or at least the one whom I have for along time assid- 
uously courted, how can you come, when I am about seeing 
the fruition of all my desires, and exact this sacrifice and 
force me to renounce my dearest hopes?” 

Fleurette hung her head. 

“ What have you done for me ? ” he continued you 
have played with me, laughed at me, baffled me! In ex- 
change for my affection and submissiveness to your orders 
what have you given me ? What have you promised me ? 
Nothing ? and you demand! — Come, Fleurette,” he said in a 
sweet and supplicating voice, “ is this just?” 

A quick blush covered the young girl’s forehead. As if 
seeking to conceal it she started to raise the hood which 
had fallen on her shoulders. The duke prevented her and 
took hold of her hand. 

“ Answer me,” said he. “ Will you at least promise to 
indemnify me for what I lose ? ” 

He was almost on his knees to her ; one of his hands 
held Fleurette’s the other was around her waist, and, with 
an accent which was almost irresistible, he cried : 

“ Speak, Fleurette, and I will believe you ! speak, and I 
will obey you ! Only one word : a great lady’s love — will 
you repay me for it ? ” 

Fleurette arose quickly. Her cheeks and lips were pale, 
her heart beat violently. Was it with indignation ? No one 
can tell : but she disengaged her hand from Fernand’s, 
proudly raised her head, and said : 


196 


FLEUR ETTE. 


“ No, no ; if I can only obtain mercy at that price, I 
no longer ask for it. I had believed the duke d’Olona to be 
sufficiently generous to pardon me unconditionally. I was 
deceived. So you can deliver me, monsieur le due, to this 
great lady whose love my ruin may serve to purchase ; it 
cannot amount to much if you can only buy it at such a price 
and if it comes to you through caprice alone.” 

There was a touch of anger, of irony almost of jealousy, 
in her voice. 

“ What do you say ? ” cried Fernand, regarding her with 
as much surprise as emotion. 

“ I say, monsieur le due," she continued, with bitterness. 
“ that in my opinion a love thus offered is not worth as 
much as the friendship of a poor girl, however humble and 
miserable she may be, a friendship like mine, for instance ! ” 

“ Ah ! ” she cried earnestly, “ if you were acquainted with 
me you would know how much gratitude for a service, how 
much devotion for a benefit I can feel. That devotion, mon- 
sieur le due, you can acquire now and forever. You will 
never be in want of joyous suppers or beautiful mistresses, 
your gold will always give them to you ; but a devoted 
heart is sent by God alone, and when it is presented to you 
do not disdain it.” 

There was a mixture of firmness, resignation, and tender- 
ness in her voice which went straight to Fernand’s heart. 
When she ceased speaking he made no response, but his 
resolution was taken. 

“ Replace your mask,” he said. 

Fleurette hastily obeyed. Fernand rang. Morillo ap- 
peared. 

“You will re-conduct madame la marquise to the first 
carriage in waiting : ” 

“ Yes, your grace.” 

“ Does anyone know how she arrived here ? ” 

“Yes, your grace.” 

“No one must ever know how she has left. See well to 
it.” 

“ Yes your grace.” 

Fernand opened a door concealed by the tapestry. It 
led to a consevatory which had a door of it’s own opening 
on the street. The Brazilian passed first into the conserva- 


FLEURETTE. 197 

tory in order to show Fleurette the way. She left alone 
with Fernand, seized his hand and carried it to her lips. 

“ Ah ! this is a noble action, monsieur, ” said she in a 
low voice, “ and Fleurette, the poor flower-girl, will never 
forget it.” And she disappeared. 

The clock struck five ; numerous carriages were enter- 
ing the large courtyard of his mansion, as Fernand, his heart 
full of an inexpressible contentment, rubbed his hands and 
said to himself : “ I will remember the Thursday of mid- 
Lent. Never, I believe, have I felt so happy ! ” 

Meanwhile the confederates male and female, had arriv- 
ed in a mass, faithful to the rendezvous and already filled 
the salons. The joy was great and the news excellent, for 
Ludovic and the other other young men had returned from 
the Opera and announced that success was certain, that 
Morillo answered for it, and the servant, of the house, when 
interrogated by the ladies, had assured them that a little 
black domino, who had arrived in a carriage with Morillo, 
had been conducted by him into the cabinet of monseigneur. 

“ Victory ! ” cried the feminine party of the assembly. 

“Victory! ’’repeated all the others. 

The guests were assembled and the supper was ready : 
they only waited for the master of the house to commence. 
He alone was late, he only was wanting at the rendez-vous. 
A door opens. It is he at last. II i zza greets his entrance, 
premature cries of joy and chants of triumph arise but are 
soon checked by the depressed air of their champion. 

“What is it? what is the matter? ” cried all the ladies, 
who surrounded Fernand on all sides like so many interroga- 
tion points. 

“ Has not your enemy been captured ? ” 

“Yes, indeed ; ladies.” 

“ Has she not been brought here ? ” 

“ Oh ! yes.” 

“ Well ! and who is she ? her name ? You know it ? ” 

“ Not yet, ladies.” 

“ Then let her come in, let her appear, said the men.” 

“ That we may tear off her mask,” cried the women. 

“ Impossible, ladies,” said d’Olona sadly, almost incon- 
ceivable, incredible and wonderful thing has just occurred. 
It is like magic, or sorcery.” 


198 


FLEURETTE. 


“ Indeed ! ” cried the ladies impatiently. “ Go on, duke.” 

« You know, madam e,” said Fernand, addressing the beau- 
tiful duchess, “ that Morillo, my devoted servant, had man- 
aged, with an address which I shall never be able to suffici- 
ently recompense, to carry off the magic domino from the 
Opera ball and to bring her here. He conducted his prisoner 
to my study, where he locked her in, and brought me the 
key of the door. I went there, my heart palpitating with 
joy on your account, duchess, thinking of the recompense 
you had promised me. I found no one. I sought every- 
where, but there was not the least trace of the prisoner, who 
had disappeared, vanished ! ” 

“ It is impossible ! ” 

“ It is as I tell you; and the most extraordinary thing 
about it all was that there was nothing broken ; the doors 
and windows were fastened with iron bars which were found 
intact in their places. The servants in the ante-chamber heard 
no noise. The concierge carefully closed the gates immedi- 
ately after the arrival of the domino and since then has seen 
no one leave the place either on foot or in a carriage. After 
all this, if the progress of intelligence in the present enlight- 
ened age did not forbid us the only explanation possible, 
I would swear that our enemy is decidedly a sorceress.” 

“Do you really think so?” said the ladies, frightened. 

“ It has every appearance of it. But come and see for 
yourselves, ladies.” 

“ The ladies and gentlemen, armed with lights, precipi- 
tated themselves into the duke’s cabinet; everything, even 
the book-cases and closets, was examined and ransacked ; 
but the invasion produced nothing, except a general disor- 
der which it took two days to repair. 

The supper was excellent, . but sorrowful. Even the 
popping of the champagne corks and the laughter had a 
mournful ring. It has not been told whether the duchesse de 
Medina was generous enough to accord as a consolation 
for defeat that which she had promised as a recompense for 
victory. 

Henceforth they might as well give up trying to discover 
the mysterious unknown ; but they spoke of her for a long 
time afterwards in their salons, every one, and the duke 
d’Olona always among the first, losing himself in conjectures, 


RLRURETTE. 


190 


each one more romantic and ingenious than the others; and 
in the encbthe anecdote of the rhoclodendrum ferrugineum 
remained, like the mystery of the iron mask, among the 
number of historical facts not yet cleared up. 

The next day, by mid-day, the duke had left his house 
on foot. He walked along dreamily, intending to take a 
promenade in the Champs- JElysee^ but he soon found him- 
flelf orpposite the Opera Arcade. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

Some weeks after the important events we have just de- 
scribed there arose a shop, or rather an elegant conservatory, 
on the Madeleine boulevard, before which the passers by 
stopped and into which entered all the fashionable world 
of both sexes. It was the fashion. That was the principal 
reason, but there were other good ones also. 

In the first place it was situated in a new quarter, erected 
as if by enchantment upon the gardens of the former man- 
sion of Foreign Affairs; a superb quarter near the com- 
mencement of the Champ s-Ely see, and all the carriages 
going to the hois de Boulogne by way of that boulevard 
stopped before the shop of Fleurette, the flower-girl, who, 
after deep and intelligent calculations, had chosen this 
site. ... 

Then the conservatory was decorated with an exquisite 
taste and always garnished with the rarest and most beau- 
tiful flowers ; and small spouting fountains kept up a per- 
ennial freshness. Carpets of verdure rejoiced the sight; 
mirrors, arranged with art along the walls and partly con- 
■cealed by the foliage, produced unforseen and charming 
effects. They permitted ladies while purchasing bouquets 
to contemplate their toilets and figures, twenty times re- 
peated amidst the flowers ; an attention to which not one 
w£s insensible. 

Behind the conservatory was a small salon with a white 
marble mantle, a handsome clock, commodious and comfort- 


200 


FLEUR ETTE. 


able furniture, and a thick and warm carpet. This was 
Fleurette’s own parlor ; in the front apartment she received 
her customers, in this only her friends, of whom she had 
many. She had known how to gain them, and, which is 
still more difficult how to keep them. 

Seated beside her at the counter, or occuping it alone 
in her absence, one generally saw a young woman about 
twenty-five years old, formerly beautiful, and who seemed 
in her new position to have recommenced a new beauty 
and youth. This person was Michelette, her former com- 
panion and Etienne’s sister. Fleurette had not forgotten 
her, and as soon as she was able to employ an assistant 
had sent for her ; and had given her what the poor girl 
had never before known ; ease, contentment and happiness. 

The duke d’Olona had kept his word faithfully. He 
had told no one, not even the duchess, Fleurette’s secret ; 
he never betrayed it and, perfect gentleman that he was, 
never let anyone suspect that he knew it. 

Fleurette, who now found herself rich and who became 
richer every day, believed that at last had arrived the time 
favorable for realising the project she had so long meditated 
upon. ' She was in business for herself, had become one of 
the leading Parisian florists, and from that period com- 
menced the new and generous enterprise which had become 
the dream of her life. 

“ Everything has succeeded with me up to the present,” 
said she, “ ’though my own welfare is not the only thing in 
question ; and will not the good God also protect me when a 
sacred duty is involved ? ” And every night in going over 
the cash with Michelette she deducted from her profits which 
were considerable, a portion which she carefully laid aside. 

“ Why ? ” Michelette would inquire, but Fleurette never 
answered. 

“ The other portion,” continued Michelette, embracing 
her, “ is in part for me, I know, and for yourself and the rest 
for business expenses ; but this — what is it put aside for ? ” 

“ To pay my debts.” 

“ But you haven’t any.” 

“Yes, indeed, I have,” said Fleurette, laughing, and 
very large ones.” 

Then she would lock up her gold, saying to herself : 


FLEURETTE. 


201 


“ Oh ! my god-mother, this is your share ! ” 

She had really conceived the project of making a dowry 
for her noble god-mother, Clotilde de Keroualle ; a very 
modest one, doubtless, but which after all would prevent 
her having to enter a convent. 

This project, as one may imagine, she had confided to 
no one ; in spite of, or perhaps because of, its improbability 
it was a source of happiness to her which she carefully kept 
to herself, and which she alone could understand. Every 
Sunday, for instance she would lock herself in her chamber 
to count over her god-mother’s fortune. 

Etienne, under the pretext of visiting his sister, oc- 
casionally came to see Fleurette whom he still loved, but 
now that she lived in a palace of flowers he felt that she 
was no longer a sweet-heart for him ; he could beat her no 
more. Luckily he could still get drunk and, under the 
pretence of forgetting his love, he gave himself up to his 
passion for drink, from which vice neither the advice of 
Fleurette nor the affection of his sister could save him. 

Among the number of fashionable young men who were 
clients of Fleurette was Ludovic, who, in sjrite of himself, 
had resumed his former chains and, while regarding this 
love as beneath him, gave himself entirely up to it with an 
ardor which commenced to alarm' the ex-court jeweller, 
madam Durussel. 

Ludovic’s passion had more than ever redoubled and 
turned to frenzy since the assiduous presence of the duke 
d’Olona who almost daily stopped his carriage before Fleu- 
rette’s door, got out, entered the shop, purchased a bouquet 
and, after having remained two or three minutes, departed. 
Soon he remained five minutes, then ten, and then a quarter 
of an hour. He took a great interest in the conversation 
of the young girl who received without astonishment or 
embarrassment the honor he did her, and of which any other 
would have been proud ; she treated him like her other cus- 
tomers, perhaps with less ceremony, a distinction which 
was not without a certain charm ; the others were pur- 
chasers, he was a friend ! 

Coquettish with others, she was not so with him ; that 
would have been to do him an injury. He deserved better 
than that. Simple and frank, she received him with joy, 


202 


FLEURETTE. 


did not conceal the pleasure she had in seeing him, and 
not seek to detain Jnm ; that might have annoyed him. So 
he never went away without regret, and was charmed by 
her gaiety, her prattle, her intelligence, and above all by the 
mute expression of a sincere sentiment, that he alone un- 
derstood, and, which in her manners, eyes, and least actions 
seemed to say : “ I have promised friendship, I keep my 
word.”- 

At first, owing to the duke’s frequent visits, Ludovic 
and all the other young Club dandies had said: “Fleurette 
is his mistress ; ” but in the free manner, friendly and almost 
intimate, he indulged in towards her there was so marked 
an evidence of esteem and respect that it was necessary for 
them to renounce their first idea, and so they could make 
nothing of it. 

Undoubtedly Flurette greatly pleased him and he found 
her charming ; he proclaimed it everywhere ; and as no 
one had ever yet resisted him, and as Fleurette did not seem 
sufficiently ferocious to be the first one to commence such 
a resistance, it was evident, so said the world, that the 
young duke had but to speak to gain her. But this time 
the world was mistaken. 

Fleurette, through her simplicity or innately, was a 
coquette and had the undefinable art of attracting confidence. 
She never demanded it, it was always given to her. 

We have said that the duke often remained with her ten 
minutes or a quarter of an hour ; and one day half an hour 
had flown by without his thinking^of departing ; his car- 
riage, horses, and servants were awaiting him on the boule- 
vard in front of Fleurerte’s shop. 

“ I am compromising you,” said he smiling. 

“ That is true ; I never thought of it.” 

“ Ah ! ” cried he joyously, “ that word will prevent my 
leaving.” 

“ On the contrary, monsieur le due ; for now that you 
have called my attention to it you must go.” 

The duke left, but frequently looked back as he was 
going out. He had remarked that in the middle of the day 
there were always a great many fashionable people, princi- 
pally ladies, at Fleurette’s ; but that by five or six o’clock 
they had returned to their promenades or their homes, and 


FLEURETTE. 


203 


were occupied with some great affair, or their toilets and 
no longer thought of the flower-girl, whose shop, at this hour 
of the day, was not yet lit up. So for some days the duke’s 
carriage regularly arrived between five and six. Saluting 
Michelette, who was behind the counter Fernand would 
enter the little salon at the back of the shop where Fleu- 
rette ordinarily rested herself after the days labors. 

Seated together before the fire-place they would then 
converse with each other ; and as a result of the secret in- 
fluence of which we just now spoke or from some other cause 
not yet explained it would be the great nobleman who re- 
lated his affairs to the little florist. And, frequently, with- 
out waiting for him to ask for it she permitted herself to 
give him advice, advice which he nearly always followed. 

With his position, rank, and fortune, the duke was the 
aim of many great coquettes who contended for him from 
pride, ambition and rivalry ; amorous intrigues in which he 
found everything but love. We have said that he loved 
women passionately, adoringly, and above everything ; -it 
was the sole occupation of his life. So one can understand 
how he had neither the strength nor the courage to decline 
their advances, which touched his vanity rather than 
his heart, and just now he found himself boldly carrying on 
three or four intrigues not one of which really charmed him. 
On the other hand there was not one of them that was not 
a source of embarrassment, of false promises, of weariness, 
or of regret ; not one which did not lead to scenes of re- 
proach, tears and jealousy ; and in the end there was neither 
repose nor liberty for him. He lived in a state of gilded 
slavery, held by chains of flowers which he was anxious- to 
break but which honor and the behavior, or rather beauty, 
of his mistresses joined to his own weakness prevented his 
breaking. 

This was his life. Frequently Fleurette pitied him, but 
oftener she laughed at him. 

“ Ah ! you laugh ! ” he would indignantly cry out. 

“ At an unhappiness which is not genuine ; but, after all, 
if it amuses you — ” 

“No,” he would answer impatiently, “it tires me to 
death.” 

At this Fleurette would laugh still more heartily. 


204 


FLEURETTE. 


“Yes,” he would wrathfully go on, “nothing pleases 
these fashionable idols but insignificance and frivolity. 
They haven’t two ideas in succession ; it is impossible to 
converse with them like I do with you.” 

“ I ! monsieur le due , I listen, that is all. It is a plea- 
sure — not a merit.” 

“No no, you flatterer. You are intelligent, as you 
know very well, and more than that you have good sense, 
and reasoning powers,” he added, smiling, “ that are really 
appalling.” 

“Oh! pshaw!” 

For a moment or two he silently regarded her, and then 
said : 

“ Haven’t you yet perceived, Fleurette, the ascendency 
you have acquired over me ? ” 

“ No ; but thank you for letting me know it ; I will use 

it.” 

“By Jove! you have already commenced. You have 
at least twenty times made fun of my livery. You found 
it too gorgeous, too showy — ” 

“ And in bad taste. When one is as rich as you one 
should affect simplicity.” 

“ Very well, that is understood,” he abruptly responded. 
“ If you will look out of doors you will see that my livery 
has been changed.” 

“ That is right,” tranquilly said Fleurette. 

“ And Campador, my favorite horse, who pleased all 
Paris, and the one I usually ride ; he was so elegant and 
impetuous, and yet he did not please you — ” 

“ He would have broken your neck.” 

“You took a dislike to him, in short detested him and 
found him frightful ; and I who formerly cared so much for 
bun, became little by little disgusted with him, without 
knowing why, and finished this morning by getting rid of 
him.” 

Fleurette uttered a cry of pleasure, and with a move- 
ment as rapid as thought took the duke’s hand as if to 
thank him. Fernand could not help feeling touched at this 
exhibition of affection, so sincere and disinterested, and 
warmly pressed the hand she had given him. 

“ Well,” said Fleurette, without seeking to withdraw 


FLEURETTE . 205 

her hand, “ that which you have done with your favorite 
horse — ” 

She stopped and smiled. 

“Well ! — go on.” 

“You must also do — with all your favorites ! That is 
my advice.” 

“ All right,” replied Fernand, sinking back into his arm- 
chair ; “ I will follow it if I have the courage, or rather if 
some one I know would give me the courage in giving me 
better advice ; herself, for instance.” 

“ Bah ! ” replied Fleurette, also leaning back in her 
chair.” I understood ! monsieur le due , that we had given 
up all those ideas.” 

“ You doubtless ; but I, never ! The more I see you, 
the more pleasant they are to me.” 

“That is impossible,” said she gaily. “ You love regu- 
lar beauties, Grecian ones, and I have only an irregularly 
pretty face and a Parisian figure. You love antique profiles 
and I have a snub-nose ; a young one, it is true, which is its 
only merit. In addition to it I have nothing, absolutely 
nothing.” 

While speaking she lay extended in her chair, and 
warmed her feet with the negligence and unceremoniousness 
of one who was at home. 

“ In the first place,” said the duke slowly and admiring- 
ly, “ you have a very pretty foot and ankle.” 

“ What does that prove ? ” asked she with an indiffer- 
ent air. 

“ That proves,” said he with vivacity, “ that you are 
charming! If you would love me, Fleurette, it would 
change my whole existence, it would add to my life — ” 

“ One more embarrassment, and you have so many al- 
ready. It is for my friendship to diminish, not to increase, 
them. — Stop ! monseigneur ,” said she with emotion and as- 
suming a serious tone, “ let us not speak of that, let us 
never speak of it.” 

“ So be it,” said the duke coldly. “ One question only ; 
do you love anyone else ? ” 

“ 1 know of no one,” she answered abruptly. “ Why 
do you ask ? ” 

“For this reason ; whoever he may be, I wish to make 


206 


FLEUR ETTE. 


him, not happy, for he is already that,” said he, regarding 
her kindly, “ but rich enough for you to marry him at once 
and find with him the happiness you deny to me.” 

Fleurette thanked him with a grateful smile of recogni- 
tion, and replied : 

“ Keep your gold, monsieur le due , for I am in love with 
no one.” 

“ You have the same antipathy for me, then,” said he 
laughing, “ that you have for my horse, Campbador ; an in- 
nate one ! ” 

“You don’t believe it,” said she reproachfully. “ Of all 
I have seen you appear to be the least wicked. And,” she 
continued, raising her eyes to his and describing him to 
himself, “ you are not a fop, nor are you proud or preten- 
tious. One frequently forgets while looking at you that you 
are handsome, and in listening to you that you are a great 
nobleman.” 

“Well then,” cried Fernand, forgetting to thank her 
for the compliment, “what do you reproach me with.” 

“ Many things. In the first place you are too rich.” 

“What difference does that make to you?” 

“ It would be believed that I had given jnyself to you 
for your gold, that I owed my fortune to you, and I only 
wish to owe it to myself,” said she proudly. 

“ Well ! ” cried the duke gaily, “ I will never give you 
anything, I swear! nothing!” and he added tenderly and 
seriously : “ I will love you enough to do that.” 

Fleurette could not keep from smiling, and said : 

“ That is already something ! ” 

“ It is a great deal ! ” he quickly replied, “ then the 
world can no longer say anything, nor you either ; now are 
you persuaded, do you consult ? ” 

“Not yet.” 

“ What other objections have you ? ” 

“ I will perhaps tell them to you later on,” said she, 
rising, “You have no pity on your servants, who have been 
standing before my door for an hour.” 

“ Don’t be afraid,” cried he, “ no one will remark them, 
nor even see them. Thanks to you my livery is now so 
simple.” 


FLEURETTE . 207 

With these words he hastened out, and Fleurette re- 
mained for sometime plunged in a deep revery. 

“ It is singular,” she said to herself, smiling sadly,” he 
pretends that he loves me, and he does not love me ! while 
1 — “ she did not finish, but the smile died away on her lips 
tnd tears glistened in her eyes. 


CHAPTER IX. 

That evening the shop was illuminated. Fleurette was 
behind the counter surrounded by customers, or rather 
adorers, Ludovic among others, of whose conversation she 
heard little. Perhaps she was thinking of what she had 
heard that morning, or perhaps only of her business affairs. 
It was Saturday, the day on which she counted over her 
profits, and on which she thought not so much of the good 
God as of his angels. ^ postman entered and handed her 
a letter which she opened with a careless air, but at the first 
words she read she turned pale, her hands trembled, she 
turned to the signature, uttered a cry, and hastened into her 
little salon in order to read it alone and at her ease. 

“ My god mother ! ” said she, putting the letter to her 
lips and then on her heart, “ my god-mother ! ” 

It was indeed Clotilde de Keroualle who had written to 
her god-child, and the latter, seeing the other’s name, had 
forgotten everything else. She had not even thought of 
contradicting Ludovic, who had insinuated and was himself 
convinced that the letter she had just received was from the 
most adored of lovers. What did it matter? Fleurette 
cared little for the opinions of those who were indifferent 
to her, Clotilde wrote that she had just arrived in Paris, and 
that she would expect a visit from Fleurette on the follow- 
ing morning after Mass, for she wanted to see her and em- 
brace her at the earliest moment possible — altogether a good 
and tender letter, and one in which, in a few lines, her god- 
mother faithfully depicted her beautiful character. 

Fleurette did not sleep any that night, and, if she had 
dared, would have knocked at the doors of the mansion in 


208 


FLEURETTE. 


the rue de Varennes at daybreak. At last, at the appointed 
hour, she arrived. 

She had so many things to relate to her god-mother and 
so many questions to ask her that the words became crowded 
together on her lips and she could say nothing, she could 
only embrace her. Then she gazed at her, remaining for 
some moments motionless, as if in an ecstasy. At that time 
Clotilde was in all the splendor of her beauty, joined to 
which was the most exquisite grace and an undefinable 
charm which reigned throughout her person. Her attentive 
kindness soon acquainted itself with the progress, studies, 
and welfare of her god-daughter. 

On her side Fleurette thought only of her god-mother, 
her journey, and her condition. The last was unchanged. 
She still led a life of dependence and humiliation. She per- 
formed the duties of an ordinary governess less the salary 
and respect. Her young cousin saw in the daily lessons so 
generously given her only an annoyance which freed her 
from all gratitude. As to madame de K6roualle there was 
the same barrenness of heart and manners. She had be- 
come so used to considering Clotilde as an attendant, and 
treating her as such that even Clotilde herself ended by for- 
getting she was of the same family, and no longer called the 
marquise “ cousin ; ” which madame de Keroualle took for 
a mark of deference and respect, and was actually pleased 
at it. 

Madame de Keroualle, who had married off her eldest 
daughter last year, had now the happiness to part with the 
second. A nobleman of her province, M. de Kervalec, who 
had been appointed a Receiver-General, had asked for her 
daughter Geraldine in marriage, and her dowry ought to 
serve to pay his security. In order to definitely arrange 
this affair, and one or two others which required the pres- 
ence of the Keroualle family at Paris, it had been decided 
that the marriage should be celebrated in the latter city, and 
this is how madame de Keroualle, her son-in-law, daughters 
and cousin found themselves inhabiting for a month or two 
the house in the rue de Varennes. 

The family mansion was accordingly just now less tire- 
some than usual ; the coming marriage was the cause of a 
few dinner-parties, reception^ and even balls, at which 


FLEUR ETTE. 


209 


Clotilde danced little but helped her cousins to dance, for it 
was she who played the piano, with a talent so remarkable 
that more than one dancer forgot what he was about while 
listening to the orchestra, M. de K6rvalec, the future son- 
in-law, had been accorded the right of coming to pay his 
court to madame de Keroualle and his intended as often as 
was considered proper, which promised a succession of not 
very amusing soirees for Clotilde; although for to-morrow, 
Monday, in order to celebrate their arrival in Paris, M. de 
Kervalec would have the gallantry to conduct the ladies 
to the Opera. He had taken a box of six seats in the first 
tier ; and one of these seats, with which they did not 
know what else to do, had been graciously accorded, as a 
wedding-gift, to Clotilde, who adored music and was en- 
chanted at the idea of going to the Opera. 

“ At this very moment,” said she to Fleurette, “ I am 
occupying myself, as you may see, with my toilet.” 

She was, in truth, making herself a white gauze dress, 
one of the freshest, simplest, and prettiest one could hope 
to see. 

“ All, god-mother !” cried Fleurette, “let me give you 
the flowers to put in you hair and to wear at your waist. 
Do not fear ; the most elegant ladies in Paris supply them- 
selves at my place ; and you shall have the most beautiful 
flowers in the shop.” 

“ No,” replied Clotilde, “ I do not wish it, it would be 
too expensive.” 

“ What are you thinking of, god-mother ! the shop is 
yours, and I also, as you well know. Do not deprive me 
of this pleasure.” 

It was indeed such a great one to Fleurette that Clo- 
tilde did not dare pain her by declining. 

The next day the flower-girl arrived, with a content and 
triumphant air, bringing with her a basket of Stars of the 
Alps and white camellias which she placed at her god- 
mother’s feet. 

“ Ah ! this is too fine for me, a thousand times too fine ! ” 
cried Clotilde, less charmed at the beauty of the present 
than at the sincere transports of delight of Fleurette, whose 
eyes were radiant with joy and whose hands covered the 
other with flowers. , . 


210 


FLEURETTE . 


The poor child had much hoped to prolong her visit and 
converse at more length than on the previous day, when she 
had scarcely had time to speak with her god-mother, but 
the high and harsh voice of madame de Keroualle was heard 
speaking in the front room. 

“ You must go, now,” said Clotilde. 

“And how shall I see you again, god-mother ? ” 

“ I do not know ; for we are going to the hois de Bou- 
logne during the day.” 

“ You will pass by my shop ; if you could stop there a 
moment — to buy some flowers — I could see you.” 

“ I will try and induce Geraldine to do so.” 

The door opened, and madame de Keroualle appeared ; 
and, dry, cold and icy, she seemed among the flowers, like 
winter in the middle of Spring. Her scornful eye, resting 
on the flower-girl, seemed to ask : “ How comes this girl 

here? ” and Fleurette hastened to escape without daring to 
cast a single glance of adieu towards her god-mother. But 
Clotilde would not let her go away thus, and courageously 
held out a hand to her. 

“ Ah ! ” said Fleurette, as she went away, “ my god- 
mother is brave ! She will have a scene on my account.” 
And she ’returned home thinking'ofLClotilde. 

“ No,” she said to herself after a while, “my god-mother, 
must not remain in that old-fashioned house; she would 
die of sorrow. Nor shall she enter a convent; there she 
would die of weariness, and I don’t want her to die at all. 
I want her to remain in the world, among the pleasures of 
her age, and among the great ladies of whom she would be 
the best and the most beautiful.” 

At home she found a visitor, one whom she had no rea- 
son to expect, but who nevertheless did not surprise ter. 
It was the, duke who, learning from Michelette that Fleur- 
ette had gone out, had entered the little salon , and there 
awaited her. 

“ Ah ! monsieur le due” said she, threatening him with 
her fore-finger, “ this is a piece of audacity — ” 

“ At which you are offended ? ” 

“ For which I thank you,” said she, offering him her hand. 

“ Ah ! ” cried he, carrying it respectfully to his lips, 
“whether you wish to or not, Fleurette, you must pardon 


FLEURETTE. 


211 


me arid put up with me. Yesterday you were without a 
visit from me, but that was not a usual holiday. As for 
me, two days without seeing you is too long, so I am here 
once more.” 

He seated himself beside her ; and then, in charming lan- 
guage, all that love and desire could inspire, which was ten- 
der, gallant and captivating was uttered by this young and 
handsome nobleman, whom up to that time no great lady 
had ever resisted. Fleurette felt that only a portion of 
what he said was really true, but that part was so sweet and 
the rest, though false, was still so seductive that she had 
great difficulty in finding good arguments with which to de- 
fend herself, in fact her troubled mind found none. In vain 
did she call her reason to her aid, it forsook her : she was 
entranced, if not persuaded, and even her heart, accomplice 
of her senses, was perhaps about to betray her when, all at 
once, there arose before the eyes of her mind the image of 
her god-mother, from whom she had just parted, her good 
angel, her guardian angel ! 

She arose, and tore herself from Fernand’s arms. The 
charm was dissipated, reason and calmness had returned 
to her. Instantly, with the rapidity of light, and as if this 
angel could inspire only noble and generous sentiments, the 
greatest, the sublimest of all suddenly offered itself to her 
heart and mind. She passed her hand over her forehead 
and eyes, and Jhen regarded Fernand with a smile which 
was pure, tranquil and candid. 

My cause is lost! ” murmured he. 

“ Is is really true then,” she asked him with an accent 
full of kindness, “ that ^ou want me to make you happy? ” 

“ Yes,” said he passionately, “ my happiness depends on 
you.” 

“Is it possible,” said she, bowing her head; “yes, I 
really believe that it rests with me to render you happy, for- 
ever, happy !” She stopped a moment, and then smiling went 
on : “ Eh, well ! let it be so.” 

“ My cause is gained ! ” said d’Olona to himself. 

“ But you should reflect well,” continued Fleurette. 

“Aye ! ” muttered the duke, “ if we reflect everything is 
yet in doubt.” 

“ Remember,” repeated Fleurette gaily, “ that to charge 


212 


FLEURETTE. 


ones self with making you happy, forever happy, is to as- 
sume a very great responsibility, and before accepting it I 
demand that from the present moment you obey me in 
everything.” 

“ I promise it ! ” eagerly cried the duke. 

“ I insist that you shall accede to all my fancies and 
caprices.” 

“ I swear it ! ” 

“ And if they appear a little odd to you — ” 

“ So much the better ! ” 

“ Even extravagant — ” 

“ That is what I want.” 

“You are not to take me to task for them.” 

“ Certainly not.” 

“Eh ! well, sir; to prove my esteem for you, I have first 
a great secret to confide to you and then, my friend, for 
I commence a little to regard you as such, I have a great 
service to ask of you.” 

“ Thanks,” cried he joyfully, “ speak, I am here.” 

“ Ah ! ah ! ” said she, looking at him, “ you are brave 
and do not tremble. I commence : what are you going to 
do this evening ? ” 

“ I dine with the duchess de Medina.” 

“ You must break your engagement, you must not go.” 

“ Agreed !” 

“ You will go to the Opera.” 

“ With you ? ” 

“No, alone. You will place yourself in the balcony.” 

“Very well.” 

“ Armed with your glass you will, as usual, survey the 
whole house in order to discover the prettiest woman. 
Do you understand ? ” 

“ Perfectly. Thus far it is not very difficult.” 

“ Above all you will regard the grand boxes in the first 
tier.” 

“ Why ? ” 

“You will see in one of them a charming young girl 
in a white gauze robe, and that you may not confound her 
with others I will tell you in advance that she will wear in 
her hair and at her waist Stars of the Alps; our old signal, 
which you so well know.” 


FLUERETTE. 


213 

“I understand,” said the duke, smiling, “ a charming sur- 
prise you promise me. It will be yourself.” 

“ Almost. It will at least be another self, or perhaps,” 
said she laughing, “ I shall take this new form for a change. 
You love variety.” 

“ What do you mean? ” 

“ This,” said she seriously, “ is the great secret that I 
have to confide to you and the immense service I have to 
ask of you.” 

“ But,” said the duke, puzzled, what do you expect of 
me — what must I do this evening ? ” 

“Nothing, but to regard this young girl closely, and to 
come to me to-morrow and tell me frankly and without flat- 
tery if the roses of the Alps I have sold her are becoming 
to her.” 

“You are laughing at me,” said the duke in a half seri- 
ous, half jesting tone. 

“ How, monsieur,” cried she indignantly, “ you swear to 
obey all of my orders, my caprices, whatever they may be, 
and the very first one I impose on you — ” 

“ You are right,” said he. 

“You ought not to even question whether I am right.” 

“ That is true. Don’t get angry, Fleurette, I will go to 
the Opera this evening.” 

“And you will do well.” 

She watched him go out to his carriage, followed him 
some distance with her eyes, and as he became lost to sight 
she, looking up to heaven, said to herself. 

“ It is in the hands of God.” 


CHAPTER X. 

The Opera was resplendent with light, beautiful 
toilets, and the fashionable world ; there was to be pro- 
duced (an extraordinary occurence) a new work, the author 
and composer of which were both French, and which came 


FLEURETTE 


214 


from neither Germany nor Italy ; for the Parisian Opera, 
formerly the first theatre of the world and one of the nat- 
ional glories, can at present give us nothing but translations 
or works of great Italians or Germans. This evening they 
had left Italy and re-entered France ; there was a crowd. 

The Keroualle family had taken their position in one of 
the front boxes of the first tier. Geraldine, the bride-elect, 
was in the front right-hand seat in full dress ; behind her 
sat her future husband, to whom the easy-going character of 
his fiancee promised in his household a reign absolute and 
without opposition-. It may be remembered that Geraldine 
always agreed with the last speaker. 

Near her, also in the first rank, was her youngest sister, 
Corentine, Clotilde’s pupil who, under her new mistress still 
retained her childish habit of constantly laughing, a monoton- 
ous and insupportable gaiety which proved nothing, cer- 
tainly not the amiability of her character, which was undis- 
guisedly false and envious. 

On the the other side madame la marquise de Keroualle 
was seated, so that the mother and two daughters were in 
the front, and Clotilde was behind Corentine. But Corentine 
was so small and Clotilde so majestic and beautiful that the 
latter towered above the former by at least one half her 
height, so that although in the second row she appeared to be 
in the first. 

There was still a vacant seat in the box which should 
have remained unoccupied had not Ludovic Durussel, who 
was with his mother in another box, perceived the ladies and 
come to salute them and pay his respects to the marquise, 
her daughters and son-in-law. He remained with them 
throughout the first act acting as their cicerone, pointing out 
to them all the celebrities of the day, male and female, as 
they made their appearance. 

He had already shown them some of the most illustrious 
when they noticed a great commotion in the house. The 
glasses of all the ladies were no longer directed towards the 
tenor, who was just then singing his principal air, but to- 
wards a young man with a charming shape and figure who 
at that moment made his appearance in the balcony of the 
first tie boxes/ 

“ Ah ! what a superb cavalier ! ” cried the marquise 


FLEURETTE. 215 

“ He resembles king Charles, the Second, of England, whose 
portrait is at our chateau in Brittany.” 

“It is true,” responded Geraldine, who never contra- 
dicted anybody, “ so he does.” 

“ It is his living self,” said Corentine, with a shout of 
laughter which aroused murmurs among her neighbors. 

“ Certainly,” said the marquise, looking through her 
glass and persisting in her opinion, “ he is the handsomest 
cavalier I have ever seen.” 

“ He is the handsomest I have over seen,” repeated 
Geraldine, without thinking of her intended being present. 

Corentine again commenced to laugh, to the great an- 
noyance of her neighbors, whom she prevented from hear- 
ing the music. 

At this moment many ladies in the first boxes, among 
others a princess, bowed in return to the salute which the 
handsome young man had addressed to them. 

“ Who is this young gentleman ? ” asked the marquise 
of Ludovic. 

“ He is my intimate friend,” replied Ludovic, lowering 
his eyes from modesty, duke Fernand d’Olona, the man who 
is at present all the rage, a grandee of Spain, whose father 
has been president of an American republic — of — I can never 
pronounce the name : but, what is of still more importance, 
he has gold and diamond mines in that country ; in short 
he does not himself know the extent of his fortune. 

“Last month he gave us, at his mansion in thence Saint 
Honore , a delicious supper apropos of an adventure — which 
I would relate to madame la marquise and monsieur de Ker- 
valec if these young ladies were not present — because the 
duke, adores women, you know, above all when they are 
beautiful.” 

“ Monsieur Ludovic,” said the marquise shaking her fan 
at him, “ take care. Ah, gracious heavens ! ” she cried in- 
terrupting herself, “ it seems as if the duke d’Olona is look- 
ing at me.” 

“Yes indeed, mother,” repeated Geraldine, “it is evid- 
ent that he is looking at us.” 

“ So he is,” said Corentine, with a shout of laughter 
which this time seriously disturbed the dilettanti in the 
amphi-theatre. The marquise made her a sign to be quiet, 


216 


FLEURETTE. 


and then cried out : “ But see, son-in-law, see, monsieur 
Ludovic ; the duke’s glass is constantly directed to this box. 
I do not understand such perseverance,” said she smiling, 
“ for decidedly it is I that he is gazing at.” 

“ It is I,” repeated Geraldine. 

“It is I,” giggled Corentine. 

It was plain that the duke’s attention was just then al- 
together concentrated upon their box. He had at once 
sought and soon perceived the head-dress and bouquet of 
Stars of the Alps, which Fleurette had that morning de- 
scribed, then he had remarked with admiration the young 
person who wore them, and the more he contemplated her 
the more he went into ecstasies over the regularity of her 
features, the shape of her figure, the beauty of her stature, 
in short over her whole ensemble, which was so gracious 
and charming that he was unable to withdraw his eyes from 
her. He asked himself how such a marvel had up to the 
present escaped liis eyes, and interrogated an old gentleman 
near him in regard to the persons occupying the box with 
the beautiful unknown. 

“ Hold on ! ” said the old gentleman, in his furn looking 
through a glass, “ I believe I recognize a lady with whom I 
danced in my youth the marquise de Keroualle. Those are 
probably her daughters in the first row, for I can see a 
family resemblance.” 

“Yes,” said Fernand, “ but I am speaking of the young 
lady in the second row ; it is a shame that she should not 
be in the first and is kept thus in retirement.” 

“ She is, indeed, perfectly beautiful,” cried the old gen- 
tleman, who continued gazing at her. “ She has turned her 
eyes this way, how admirable they are! what a dazzling 
complexion ! what a distinguished air ! it is veritable per- 
fection ; but I do not know her and am unable to say who 
she is.” 

Happily the duke, whose opera-glass was at that moment 
directed towards the rear of the marquise’s box, was sure 
that he distinguished Ludovic Durussel’s features ; so that 
he now had the hope of positive information, and between 
the acts he directed his steps towards the lobby where he 
was almost certain he would meet Ludovic. He was not 
mistaken, for in a few minutes the latter appeared. The 


FLEURETTE. 


217 


duke took the other’s arm, at which honor Ludovic was so 
flattered that for a moment he almost forgave Fernand his 
competition for Fleurette. 

“ So you know madame la marquis de Keroualle ? ” said 
Fernand. 

“ Very well, my dear duke, very well indeed. She is an 
intimate friend of ray mother, who even wished to marry 
me to one of the marquise’s daughters. Fortunately the 
eldest is married, the second is about to be, and the third is 
not yet old enough to be feared. One can, then, visit the 
family without any danger. That is why you saw me with 
them this evening.” 

“ And the beautiful young lady, the third, who is she ? ” 
“ She is also one of the family, an orphan cousin ; that 
is all I know of her. As to the marquise — ” 

“ I have often heard her spoken of,” said the duke, “ and 
for a long time I have wished to be presented to her. Will 
you render me that service, my dear Ludovic ? ” 

“ Yes, indeed ! ” cried Ludovic, enchanted at the impor- 
tance this would give him ; and he hastened to conduct the 
duke to the ladies, saying to the marquise that monsieur 
d’Olona, his best friend, had solicited the honor of an intro- 
duction to her. 

The old marquise, whose welcome was most gracious, 
then took entire charge of the conversation with the duke, 
who listened to her with difficulty. While she was speak- 
ing Fernand, motionless from admiration, regarded Clotilde, 
who lowered her eyes and remained silent. The duke was 
as quiet as herself, which did not prevent the marquise and 
her daughters, when the second act had commenced and he 
had taken leave of them, from crying out in chorus : “ How 
amiable, how charming he is ! ” 

The duke returned home preoccu])ied. In his whole 
gallery he had no picture, no statue which could be com- 
pared to mademoiselle de Keroualle. An enthnsiastic ad- 
mirer of beauty, he had never seen any object of art more 
beautiful. As a woman, he could come to no conclusion ; 
she had not spoken a ward, nor opened her mouth. She 
had been all the time like a statue. Meanwhile, he thought 
of her, and still more of Fleurette. What secret could she 


218 


FLEURETTE. 


have to confide to him in regard to this young lady ? What 
service to demand of him ? 

“ In any case, what a strange and singular girl Fleurette 
is ! ” he said to himself. “ At the very moment when she 
no longer declines my attentions, when she even consents 
to accept them, to otter such a beauty to my eyes, an extras 
ordinary, ideal beauty ; the type of perfection ! Yet Fleu- 
rette has intelligence, and knows my ardent imagination 
and passionate taste for all that is beautiful ; still, what a 
blunder in her ! ” 

Well, blunder or not, Fleurette usually had the art and 
talent necessary for intrigue, and this time, too, she had 
completely succeeded, for all night he dreamt of this new 
adventure, of Fleurette, of the beautiful statue, and of the 
answer to the enigma. 

Important visits prevented his going to the flower-girl’s 
before mid-day. He found her about to go out. 

“ How ! Fleurette, are you going away ? ” 

“Yes, indeed. An important affair — ” 

“ But I want to speak with you ; I have a thousand 
things to tell you. Last night I was at the Opera.” 

“ I know it.” 

“ And how ? ” 

“ From the Keroualles, who just now stopped to buy 
some flowers of me. They are going in their old fashioned 
carriage to the hois de Boulogne : they are in the habit of 
going there almost every day.” 

“ That is not the question, but of my encounter of yes- 
terday evening,” said he quickly. 

“ Eli, well ! did the Stars of the Alps produce a good 
effect ? ” she asked with interest. 

“Yes, indeed.” 

“ Did they really produce a good effect ? ” 

“ A charming one,” he answered impatiently. 

“ I am delighted ; that is all I wished.” 

“Yes; but the secret — the service you promised to ask 
of me, tell it to me quick.” 

“ Not to day, monsieur le due, — I am going to an impor- 
tant sale at the most celebrated flower-gardener’s in Paris, 
Lemiche, rue des Trois Couronnes, whose gardens are to 

be sold to day.” 


FLEURETTE. 


219 


“ And when will you return ? ” 

“ I don’t know ; the sail will last to-day and to-morrow, 
perhaps even longer.” 

“It is impossible; you must not go.” 

“ Business before everything, monsieur le due , I have 
often told you that I wished to make my fortune myself, so 
you must let me make it.” 

“ And I wish to have a long conversatiou with you.” 

“ That would take time, and I haven’t any to spare to- 
day.” 

“ Stop, Fleurette, you are insupportable.” 

“I never said that I wasn’t; but you promised to take 
me with all my faults, and I hold you to it, considering that 
they form the greater portion of me.” 

“ That settles it, of course,” impatiently cried the duke, 
“ one has to conform to your good pleasure ; but I, what is 
to become of me? ” 

“ It is superb weathe^ ; mount your horse, go to the hois, 
and meet the ladies who sweeten the air with the Parma 
violets I sold them.” And she jumped into a passing om- 
nibus, crying out to him : 

“ A pleasant ride ! ” 

So the duke, in order to pass away the time, was obliged 
to mount his horse. The latter conducted him to the hois 
de Boulogne, where, by chance, and as Fleurette had for- 
seen, he encountered the marquise and her retinue. By 
day Clotilde appeared still more beautiful than she had the 
night before. He saluted the ladies as he passed their old 
carriage, and easily read in their eyes, and divined in Clo- 
tilde’s, that they were speaking of his imposing bearing and 
of his figure on horseback. The marquise, who very much 
relished his conversation or, rather, silence, detained him at 
the door to converse with him. He did not interrupt her. 
This was the kind of dialogue she preferred and the surest 
method of winning her good opinion. He watched Clo- 
tilde, to whom he chanced once or twice to address a word, 
and she answered him, with a sweet and delicious voice, in 
a few words, simple, natural, and full of tact and suitable- 
ness, while Geraldine fatigued him with her monotonous 
phrases, Clorentine with her incessant laughter. 


220 


FLEURETTE. 


CHAPTER XI. 

The next day Fleurette, as if purposely, spent at the sale 
in the fauburg Saint Antoine and the duke at the bois de 
Boulogne. On this day the sun was magnificent, and the 
ladies descended from their carriage and seated themselves 
near the lake. The duke, who had also dismounted from 
his horse, met them and took a seat near them and con 
tinued the conversation of yesterday with the marquise^ 
except a few words that he spoke from time to time in ordei 
to draw a response from Clotilde, whose fresh and Vermil- 
lion lips when opened to speak or to smile disclosed the 
most beautiful teeth ever seen. And in answering the duke 
she was obliged to raise her eyes, usually cast down and 
concealed by their long black lashes, eyes whose softness 
and brilliancy were unequalled. 

After a while they returned to their carriage, gallantry 
compelling Fernand to give his arm to madame de Kerou- 
alle ; but love recompensed him, for in front of him, arm in 
arm with Geraldine, slowly marched Clotilde, whose elegant 
figure distracted him and prevented his hearing the compli- 
ments of the old marquise. 

On the following day the flower sale was at last ended. 
The flower-girl had made most advantageous purchases. 
She was at home ; one could converse with her. The duke 
was already seated* in her little salon. He had just arrived 
and could speak of nothing but Clotilde. 

“ How did you become acquainted with her ? How did 
you know she would go to the Opera the other evnning?” 
And a thousand other questions. 

“ Monseigneur,” said Fleurette coldly, “ can you spare 
me a half an hour?” 

“ A half hour ! Why I have all day, all my life, at your 
service as you ought to know. Speak ! I have no greater 
happiness than listening to you ! ” 

“ You think so ?” said she with a doubtful yet satisfied 
smile. 


FLEURETTE . 221 

“ Certainly,” said the duke in the best faith in the 
world. 

“ Then listen to me.” 

Then with a frankness and confidence which she ac- 
corded, not to the duke d’Olona, but to her friend, her best 
friend, she told him her entire life : she related how a poor 
girl of the people, a vagabond, a bohemienne, almost with 
out bread and clothes, she had had for her first and only 
protectress a noble young girl of about her own age ; how 
this young girl had been her god-mother, her guardian an- 
gel, and her guide on earth and towards heaven ; how she 
owed to her generosity her own modest fortune, and to her 
counsels the knowledge of God, of honor and of duty, the 
development in short of all the good sentiments she ever 
possessed. 

“ She passed rapidly over that which concerned Fleu- 
rette, the florist ; but, with the warmth of gratitude and 
the enthusiasm of friendship, she described at length the 
virtues of her god-mother, her noble poverty, her resigna- 
tion, and her courage. With indignation she pictured her 
precarious and dependant position, or rather her bondage. 
Fernand, like Fleurette, was affected and indignant. Never 
had a more able, eloquent and devoted advocate pleaded a 
cause before a better disposed judge. She finally came to 
Clotilde’s project of entering a convent when her youngest 
cousin’s education should be finished. Fernand trembled 
and Fleurette, taking his hand, said to him : 

“ Now here is the secret I promised to confide to you.” 
And, in a low voice, she told him the means she expected to 
take and had already taken to make a dowry for her god- 
mother. 

“Ah! ’’cried Fernand with emotion, and tears in his 
eyes, “ you are a brave girl, Fleurette, and one that I love 
with all my heart, and shall always love.” 

“ I very much hope you may,” said she. 

“ But, my poor child, you, who are ordinarily so sensi- 
Dle, are all wrong in this.” 

“I fear I am,” said she. “I have commenced to under- 
stand that I should have to make such a great deal that I 
would never reach the goal, or it would take me so long 
that by the time I did earn it my god-mother and I would 


222 


FLEURETTE. 


both be very old. But I have thought of your assisting me. 
If I ask nothing for myself, I do not blush at asking for my 
friends and from my friends. There,” said she regarding 
him, “ is the service I expect from you.” 

Fernand embraced her with gratitude. 

“ Speak ! — dispose of my fortune — it^s yours.” 

“ That is what I said to myself,” she naively responded. 
“Not too large a dowry,” she quickly added, “ so that my 
god-mother may think it it comes from my business and sav- 
ings.” 

“ Alas, my dear child,” said Fernand, sadily regarding 
her, “ you still deceive yourself. Never would mademoiselle 
de Keroualle, if she is like your description of her, receive 
from her, god-child this modest fortune, the fruit of her 
labors ; never, from your account of her, would she accept 
anything from you, and still less from another.” 

“ Possibly,” said Fleurette. Then after a moments re- 
flection she sighed, and said ; “ It is true. What is to be 
done, then ? ” 

“ Re-assure yourself,” said Fernand, “ for with her birth, 
name and beauty it is likely that mademoiselle Clotilde de 
Keroualle will find honorable lovers ; and as soon as one 
shall have seen her — ” 

“ And who is likely to see her ? ” cried Fleurette. “ She 
leaves in a few days to become once more and forever, a slave 
in the remotest part of Brittany ; and then you forget that 
she has no dowry, and is poor, poor as poverty.” 

“ She ! ” said Fernand, enthusiastically, “ who has treas- 
ures of youth, virtue and beauty ! ” 

“ To be content with those treasures,” answered Fleu- 
rette, shaking her head, “ would require one who had for- 
tune, heart and good sense ; some one, in short, who under- 
stands that he is making a good bargain in purchasing hap- 
piness with his money ; but where find such a one, in the 
present day, among our millionaires ? ” 

“And then,” said Fernand coldly, “ even if he should 
present himself, would she accept him ? ” 

“ You are right. I believe she is difficult to please, and 
that fortune alone would never decide her.” 

“ There is a last way !” cried the duke. 

“What is it !” quickly demanded Fleurette. 


FLEUkETTE. 


223 


“ Getting her a position as a maid of honor at the court 
of some queen or princess. I will make this my business, 
you may be sure.” He gave her his hand and went thought- 
fully away. 

“ Ah ! ” said Fleurette, placing her hand on her heart, “ I 
have done all I could and ought ; I dare do no more. Let 
us wait ! ” So she waited. 

Several days passed without her seeing the duke. She 
could hardly have told how this absence affected her ; she 
was sorry for herself and contented for her projects; the 
time of which Fernand deprived her was doubtless given to 
her god-mother. It was hope joined to regret; but Fleu- 
rette was a feeling and sensible girl who mistook neither 
her own nor the duke’s character. The love of a day, soon 
followed by desertion, was it worth the loss of her own res- 
pect or of her god-mother’s, the loss of a friend, perhaps of 
two ! So that the more she reflected the more ardently she 
desired the success of a dream, which, while overturning 
her own foolish hopes, assured the happiness of the two per- 
sons whom she loved the most of all the world. 

The duke returned after several day’s. He was changed. 
He said he had been ill. What was at least evident was 
that he had suffered. Fleurette was glad to see him and 
tried to thank him for coming; she was not exacting. 
These regrets were not a triumph, but a consolation which 
satisfied her friendship. 

“ Fleurette,” he said to her, “my good Fleurette you 
are such a brave and charming girl that I am afraid I shall 
greatly fall in your estimation, and this idea troubles and 
torments me.” 

“ What is all this about? ” she suddently asked, but turn- 
ing a trifle pale nevertheless. 

“ You se&,” said he, taking the young girl’s hand and 
affectionately pressing it against his heart, “ I love you.” 

“ You are right in doing so,” 

“ But what is singular is that I love you more and more, 
with a franker sincerer love than ever.” 

“ It was not then formerly entirley so ? ” 

“ Yes indeed, and to give you a proof of my frankness,” 
continued he embarrassed, “ I wished — I do not know how 


224 


FLEURETTE. 


to say it — -but it seems to me — just now — that I am in 
love with — another ! ” 

For a few moments she regarded him with the pure and 
radiant air which frequently accompanies the making of a 
sarcrifice or the accomplishment of duty, and then, tender- 
ing him her hand said : 

“ If it is my god-mother monsieur le due , I pardon you.” 

He uttered a cry of surprise. 

“ But if not she,” gaily went on. 

“ I will retain you and give you to nobody.” 

“ What ! Fleurette ; you do not complain of my incon- 
tancy ? ” 

“ It is my fault, I caused it.” 

“And this love so prompt and so sudden, you do not 
reproach me with it ? ” 

“ I desire it, I created it. Don’t you remember, mom 
sieur le due , that I imprudently swore to render you happy, 
forever happy? It was a rash promise and beyond my 
strength, so I have chosen that my god-mother should keep 
it.” 

“Ah! you are generous,” said the duke looking grate- 
fully at her. “You even wish to free me from the remorse 
from which I have been suffering, It seemed to me such a 
piece of treachery, and that I "should lose a friend.” 

“ It will be giving me one, instead, for now I have two, 
you and she.” 

Then she smilingly asked : “ Have you made your de- 

clarations ! ” 

“Not yet. But,” he said, with fear, “do you believe 
she will like me? ” 

“ You love her a great deal, monseigneur ; you were not 
so timid and modest with me. But what can I tell you ? 
One never knows a young girls true thoughts : with them 
one can answer for nothing.” 

“ Ah ! you frighten me,” cried he turning pale. 

“No,” she laughingly replied,” I am taking my revenge. 
See my god-mother somewhere and ask her the question you- 
self.” 

“ No,” said he impatiently. “ I must in the usual way and 
according to custom, first make my demand of the old mar- 
quise.” 


FLEURETTE. 


225 


“ And you have not yet been there ? ” 

“ I am going there now,” said he and he hurried out to 
his carrage. 


CHAPTER XII. 

The marquise had returned early from her usual promen- 
ade. On that day there was to be a dinner of ceremonny at 
her mansion. She was to receive influential persons hold- 
ing high places ; two councillors of State, a director-general, 
and even a minister, the protector of her future son-in-law. 
The marquise had ordered her daughters and Clotilde to be 
ready at an early hour, so these three young ladies in full 
dressed had entered the salon before any of the guests, had 
arrived. 

All three were seated, but were not conversing. Clo- 
tilde, sadder even than usual, was perhaps thinking, with- 
out acknowedging it to herself, of a young and. handsome 
cavalier who had for eight days constantly presented him- 
self to her eyes ; Geraldine, according to her usual custom, 
was thinking of nothing; and Corentine was thinking of 
Clotilde’s dress which, though very plain, was charming, 
and much more beautiful, or, to speak more correctly, more 
gracefully and elegantly carried than her own. 

All at once the door leading to the marquise’s apart- 
ments opened, and that lady appeared already dressed for 
her reception, but in an extraording state of trouble and ex- 
citement and violently shaking the fan which she carried in 
order to nlodify as much as possible the warmth which 
mounted to her face and betrayed her emotion. 

“What is it, mother? What has happened?” non- 
chalantly asked Geraldine. 

“ What lias happened !” said the marquise, vainly at- 
tempting to conceal her anger under an ironical smile, an 
attempt, however, which she soon renounced, and, profiting 
by the the absence of any stranger, she gave a free rein to 
her bad humor. “What has happened, young ladies. 
Why I have received a visit I did not expect nor you either,” 


226 


FLEURETTE. 


“ Truly ! ” laughed Corentine, “ and from whom? ” 

“ M. le due d ’ Olona , grandee of Spain, and one of the 
richest lords of Europe,” said she, with bitterness. “ And 
he came — you will scarcely believe it, I who heard him can- 
not yet believe it — for the most unheard of, the most un- 
foreseen, the most singular and the most astonishing purpose.” 
She was about to recite in its entirety, and without thinking 
of it, madame de Sevigne’s famous letter, had not her 
daughters imj)atiently cried out : 

“What? what?” 

“Well,” said the marquise, elevating her voice, “he 
came to propose to me — ” 

“ You, mother ! ” cried Geraldine naively, clasping her 
hands in surprise. 

“ No ! ” said the marquise, throwing a withering glance 
upon her, “he came to propose to me for your cousin 
Clotilde.” 

Geraldine uttered an exclamation of surprise ; Clotilde 
became as pale as death, and pressed her hand on her heart, 
which was beating as if it would burst, but she said not a 
word ; and Corentine uttered a shout of laughter. 

“ What are you laughing at, you little fool ? ” angrily 
cried the marquise. 

“ At this proposed marriage,” answered Corentine, 
“ which is impossible and will never take place.” 

“ Then it will be,” said the marquise, looking at Clotilde, 
“ because mademoiselle does not wish it, for the duke has 
come to formally ask my consent to the marriage and to ob- 
tain that of my niece and has also asked permission to pay 
his court, to her in person. Those are his own words.” 
And, regarding Clotilde, she said dryly : “ I have told it 

all.” 

What she did not tell was the revolution that this un- 
forseen demand had caused her, nor the feeling of envy she 
had experienced at seeing this unexpected and immense 
fortune fall to a relative who was her antipathy and who, up 
to the present, she had regarded as belonging to the lowest 
branch of the family. She had said to herself that since 
the duke was so anxious to unite himself to their illustrious 
house he would have done well to wait one or two years, 
and then ask Corentine in marriage. Even now, and though 


FLEURETTE. 


227 


she was only sixteen years old, this alliance was not impos- 
sible. In short she had said to herself all that mothers 
usually do say when they have daughters to marry and see 
others asked in marriage in preference to their own offspring. 

In her anger she had for a moment thought of not con- 
senting to the match. But how justify a refusal ? It would 
appear odious, and besides it would be useless, in the face 
of Clotilde’s probable acceptance, for after all she was not 
a near relative and was independent of the marquise. On 
the other hand, and apart from her envy, she had promptly 
considered all the advantages which might result from this 
union. The splendor which would be reflected upon their 
house, the strong and rich protector it would give them, 
and the chances.it would give her for marrying off her third 
daughter, the last and most difficult of all to dispose of. 
The marquise took all these into consideration. 

“ Eh ! well, my dear cousin,” said she to Clotilde, and it 
had been a long time since she had called the young girl by 
that name, “it seems that you do not understand the ques- 
tion, and that you are insensible to all I have done for you.” 

“ No, cousin,” sweetly answered Clotilde, who, amid this 
sudden and unhoped for good fortune, which would have 
greatly dazzled almost anyone else, preserved her calmness 
and dignity, to the great astonishment of the marquise; “I 
thank you for the approbation you seem to accord to the 
duke’s demand.” 

“ But it is your own consent, mademoiselle, that is in 
question.” 

“ To-morrow, madame, if you will permit me, I will tell 
the duke what I think of the honor he has done me. Until 
then will you allow me this evening in which to recover my- 
self and to reflect ? ” 

“I understand; you do not wish to honor our dinner . 
with your presence.” 

“ I did not say that, madame.” 

“ Well, I agree ; on condition that you make your ap- 
pearance among us for a while this evening.” 

“I promise to do so, madame,” said Clotilde, making a 
profound courtesy, and then she retired to her modest 
chamber. As she disappeared the marquise majestically 
said aloud : 


228 


fleurette . 


“ Till this evening; duchess ! ” 

“ Duchess ! ” cried Corentine, whom that word made 
bound out of her chair. “ Then she is to be a duchess ? 
They will call her ‘ duchess,’ they will announce ‘ madame 
la duchesse ’ ? ” 

“ Certainly.” 

“ If the marriage takes place,” said Corentine, bowing 
her head ; “ but I repeat ; it never shall.” 

“ Why not ? ” 

“ Oh ! it is only an idea of mine,” said the girl with a 
loud laugh. 

This,family discussion was interrupted by the successive 
arrivals of the guests. The marquise, although she had re- 
solved to preserve silence on the subject, and though the 
news was not yet official, was unable to resist the tempta- 
tion of boasting to each guest privately. On all sides they- 
congratulated her so heartily that she commenced to fear 
she' had married her second daughter too soon, and re- - 
proached herself with her new son-in-law, the receiver- 
general, being now persuaded that she could have done 
better. 

During the evening, in obedience to her cousin, Clo tilde ; 
entered the salon about tea-time. Her presence, which yes-', 
terday would have been unnoticed, now produced a general 
effect. She was the object of so much consideration, indi- 
rect homage and circuitous compliments (addressed in ad- 
vance to the future duchess), that, being unaccustomed to 
such honors, she was almost disconcerted. 

As to Corentine, she no longer laughed ; she scarcely \ 
slept any all that night, and during the few moments that 
she did close her eyes she dreamt with joy that the match 
was broken off. 

About the middle of the next day the duke d’Olona was 
announced. He was received in the grand salon by the 
marquise, her son-in-law, her daughters and Clotilde. They 
were all in full dress. The duke bowed, and five profound 
reverences responded to his salute. This ceremoniousness, 
arranged in advance by the marquise, was not without its 
embarrassment for Fernand ; one can imagine then the effect 
it produced upon poor Clotilde. 

The duke promptly recovered himself and, casting upon 




FLEURETTE. 

his intended glances full of admiration and love, he explained 
to her in a few frank and simple words the esteem he felt 
for her and the desire he had to see his suit accepted ; 
scarcely knowing her, he had not the pretention of being 
pleasing to her, but he asked her permission to try and be- 
come so. Clotilde, troubled at this solemn declaration 
before so many witnesses, trembling and lowering her eyes, 
responded that she, as well as her family, felt highly honored 
at his request and would be very much flattered by his visits. 
During these cold and ceremonious words, which almost 
froze Fernand’s heart, Clotilde’s own heart beat violently. 

Ah ! if the young suitor could only have read that 
touched and melted heart, so full of affection and grateful- 
ness, he would have seen that the most precious of all his 
treasures to the poor orphan was his love ; that love which 
she secretly enjoyed ; that love which was her happiness 
and was about to become her duty. This was what was 
already engraved upon Clotilde’s heart, but unfortunately 
Fernand was unable to divine it. 

He hoped that after the introduction he would be left 
alone with his intended, or that he would at least be per- 
mitted to speak with her apart ; but the marquise took care 
not to leave them alone, and either she or one of her 
daughters took constant care, through respect for customs, 
to place herself between Clotilde and the duke. 

Taken with the beauty and grace of Clotilde, fascinated 
by the charm she spread around her, he could not withdraw 
his eyes from her, and the young girl, trembling and em- 
barrassed under this ardent and passionate regard, which 
fairly consumed her, kept her eyes almost constantly lowered. 

“Ah!,” said Fernand to himself despairingly, “ she ac- 
cepts, but does not love, me.” 

Meanwhile, he every morning sent his lover’s bouquet to 
the Keroualle Mansion ; I need not say from whom he pur- 
chased it. Fleurette had the patronage of the duke’s 
household as a right. Every evening he assiduously went 
to pay his court, and though madame de Keroualle’s large 
salon was frightfully wearisome he abandoned for it all 
those of which he had so lately been the ornament and 
hero. He had broken off with the beautiful duchess, and 
many others also bewailed the handsome young duke. He 


230 


FLEURETTE. 


no longer went to the Opera. He regularly arrived at his 
fiancee’s at nine o’clock, and remained there till eleven. 
He would find the four ladies at work round a table, and 
would listen to the marquise’s recitals concerning the no- 
bility of Brittany, M. de Kervalec’s observations on finance, 
Geraldine’s platitudes and Corentine’s ceaseless laughter. 
He would gaze at his betrothed, who was most of the time 
silent and whose voice he scarcely knew, contemplating her 
with admiration all the evening, and would then return 
home to dream of her. 

This is a specimen of the life he led for fifteen days ; ' 
and his love must have been great to have enabled him to 
endure it. Happily half of his trials were over ; the mar- 
riage was to take place in two weeks more ; it was fixed 
for the end of the month. 

Fernand’s only pleasure, the only compensation for his 
ennui, was to go and see Fleurette. He always found her 
the sincere and devoted friend she had promised to he ; 
always ready to listen to his troubles and to console him 
when he spoke of his betrothed’s indifference. 

“ Why do you complain ? ” she would say. “ Is it be- 
cause your intended is too beautiful, too modest and too 
proper ? Should a noble young lady act like a grisette ; 
like me, for instance? Should she say to you from the 
very first : 4 1 love you ? ’ It would do well enough in me, 
but to her it is impossible. So don’t worry. All the love 
she is now saving up in her heart you will one day receive 
with interest.” 

Then she would go to her god-mother, and preach to 
her in turn. Of course Fleurette did not say a word con- 
cerning the great part she had played in bringing about 
this marriage ; that would have destroyed all the value of 
the benefit. She had even expressed great surprise when 
her godmother had announced it to her ; for the day after 
the duke’s offer Clotilde had sent for Fleurette, and hffd 
written to her aunt Beatrix, her second mother, at Nancy. 
Fleurette and Beatrix ! They were her only friends, her 
real family. 

The poor old aunt had almost died of joy on learning 
the good news ; and had told it all over the convent. Urn 
fortunately her ill health prevented her assisting at the 


FLEUR ETTE. 


231 


wedding, but she hoped that as soon as it had taken place 
nu nsier le due and madame la duchesse would come to her 
at Nancy ; which they formally promised her to do. 

As to Fleurette, she had no need to affect a joy that 
she so sincerely felt. Without saying anything to anyone she 
was proud of her work ; proud to have at last given her god- 
mother a dowry still more magnificient than the one she 
had dreamt of and had commenced to lay aside for her. 
She was happy at this marriage, contrived by her address 
and prepared by her care, which she was certain would take 
place in spite of all mademoiselle Corentine’s sinister pre- 
dictions. She, also, reproached her god-mother with her 
coolness to her lover. 

“ Don’t you love him ? ” she asked. 

Clotilde blushed, and made no reply. 

“ But this is unworthy of you. He loves you so much, 
and gives you so many proofs of it.” 

“ Do you believe,” said Clotilde, “ that I do not appre- 
ciate all he has done for me, and that I am insensible of 
it.” 

“ Then why not tell him ? ” 

“ And the marquise and my cousins ? ” laughingly replied 
Clotilde, “ and custom and the proprieties ? ” 

“ But to me, godmother, who am neither the marquise 
nor your cousin, thank heaven ! to me, who have nothing 
to do with the proprieties, you can confide all.” 

“ No, never ! ” 

“ I understand : you cannot adore him yet. But, be- 
tween ourselves, you love him a very little, don’t you, ever 
so little as it may be ?” 

Clotilde looked around, as if to assure herself that no 
one but Fleurette could hear her ; then leaning close to the 
other’s ear she whispered with an energy that the latter 
would never have supposed her capable of : 

“ I think only of him ; I love him with an exclusive, an 
insane love, which must surely offend heaven, which 
frightens me and which God will certainly punish ! ” 

a That is all right ! ” cried Fleurette, clapping her hands, 
“I will run and tell him.” 

“ No,” said Clotilde, forcibly detaining her, “ I forbid 
it, I would never survive the shame of it ! ” 


282 


FLEURRTTE. 


“ I will not betray you, godmother, I swear to you. 
But, however, he must know it, some one must tell him.” 

“ Be easy,” replied Clotilde, blushing, “ I will myself 
tell him, but later on.” 

Fleurette was satisfied from that moment. She faith- 
fully kept her god-mother’s secret ; but whenever the duke 
complained, thereafter, she would shrug her shoulders and 
say : 

“ There is nothing so tender as the heart of a virtuous 
woman, and so you will find out my lord duke.”' 


CHAPTER XIII. 

A few days before the marriage was to take place the 
duke, who had visited the Keroualle’s every evening for 
three weeks, solicited and at last, but not without difficulty, 
obtained permission to receive his financee and her family 
at his own house. 

It is scarcely necessary to say that on this day the 
d’Olona mansion was magnificent with splendor. All 
Paris crowded into the salons to see and admire the future 
duchess. The brilliancy of the lights, the glass and the 
gilding, the marble and the porphyry walls, the statues 
and pictures of great masters, and the artistic objects of all 
kinds excited a murmur of admiration in the crowd, and in 
Corentine such a dazzled envy that she became almost ill. 

Everyone pressed around Clotilde, the queen of the 
fete, who, in her evening dress, with bare arms and shoul- 
ders would that evening have been queen of the world had 
it been left to the universal suffrage. 

The marquise, who in order to reap a share of the com- 
pliments showered upon her young relative kept constantly 
near her, was astonished at Clotilde’s calmness, almost in- 
difference, at sight of this palace, these marvels of art, and 
all the other treasures which were going to become hers. 

“ Is it possible,” cried she, “ to possess anything more 
precious ?” 


FLEURETTE. 


233 


“ Yes,” murmured Clotilde, kindly pressing the arm 
Fernand had offered her, and in a voice that he alone 
heard. 

Fernand suppressed an exclamation of joy which arose 
to his lips. This was the first word of tenderness that had 
escaped his fiance. He pressed her dear arm against his 
heart, and said aloud : 

“ Clotilde, my dearly beloved, all my riches do not 
equal in value that word.” 

A glance from the marquise stopped him, and he con- 
tented himself with murmering : 

“ Three days ! three days yet ! ” 

Their marriage would take place in three days. 

At six o’clock in the morning the marquise and her 
daughters had returned home very tired, and Clotilde very 
happy. The concierge handed the young girl a letter in an 
unknown hand, and which madame de Keroualle took pos- 
session of, Clotilde was not yet married and had not the 
right to read her own letters. This one was dated at 
Nancy. It was written by the superior of the convent in 
which lived Beatrix de Keroualle, and contained only these 
words : 

“ Mademoiselle, 

“Your aunt has been suddenly attacked by a malady 
“ the nature of which our doctor has not explained to us ; 
“ but he appears to be much alarmed, and your aunt, who 
“ ardently desires to see you, constantly calls for you. 

“ Mother Rosalie, Superior.” 

Clotilde did not go to bed. She simply changed her 
ball dress for a travelling one. 

“ What are you going to do ? ” cried the Marquise. 

“ To leave instantly. My aunt Beatrix has been a 
second mother to me — I will arrive in time to embrace her, 
to nurse her, perhaps to save her ! ” 

“ But it is impossible ! None of us can accompany you, 
and you cannot go alone.” 

“ I will not go alone.” 

Now that Clotilde had a duty to perform she was no 


234 


FLEURETTE . 


longer the timid young girl they had supposed her to be ; 
she displayed in performing this duty an energy of resolu- 
tion of which no one would have believed her capable. 

Day was breaking : she sent for Fleurette and the duke 
d’Olona. 

“ For what purpose ? ” the marquise asked her. 

Pre-oocupied, Clotilde made no reply. Without losing any 
time she made all the necessary preparations for a journey. 
This did not take her long. Fleurette soon arrived, Clotilde 
showed her the superior’s letter. 

“ I understand,” said Fleurette, “ I shall go with you, 
god-mother.” 

“ I counted upon it,” said Clotilde embracing her. 

“ And you did right. I am yours, body and soul ! Well, 
I am here, so let us go.” 

“ But,” cried Clotilde,” your business, your shop ? ” 

“We will pass by there on our way to the Strasbourg 
station, and I can give my orders to Michelette, my cashier, 
who is almost as devoted to me as if she was my god- 
daughter.” 

They heard a carriage enter the court. It was the 
duke’s. He had not yet retired when his betrothed’s mes- 
sage reached him. He arrived much disturbed in mind. 

“ Monsieur,” Clotilde said to him, thanking him with a 
grateful look for his promptness in coming to her, “ in a 
few days you would be my husband, in my eyes you are 
such already, and I ask your permission to go far away 
from here to save, or assist in her last moments, her who 
has been a mother to me.” 

The duke turned pale, and Clotilde whose love was 
gratified at the sight, saw the grief depicted in his eyes. 
She gave him her hand in thanks. 

“ I know you badly, monsieur le due” she continued, 
'‘if, when a sacred duty is in question, you do not yourself 
say to me : ‘go, go instantly, ’ ” 

“ Yes, yes,” cried he quickly, “but on condition that I 
accompany you.” 

“ You, duke ! ” cried the marquise indignantly. 

“ Oh ! ” said Fleurette, smiling, “ we will be too crowd- 
ed, for I am going with my god-mother.” 

“ Thou, Fleurette,” said the duke, with a more re-assured 


FL BURETTE. 235 

air, that is different ; I consent, but thou art responsible to 
me for her.” 

“ The idea of thee- ing and thou- ing this young girl ! ” 
cried the marquise, greatly scandalized. 

“ It is customary in Spain,” said Fleurette gaily, “ among 
the nobility.” 

“Yes,” said the duke, “the queen thees and thous every- 
body. You will at least permit me,” continued he to 
madame de K roualle, “ to accompany my friend to the 
railway ? ” 

“ No,” said the pitiless marquise. 

“Well, at any rate to put my carriage at her orders ?” 

“ That is different, I will permit that.” 

The travellers were ready. While they were carrying 
Clotilde’s trunk to the carriage, she embraced the 
marquise, Geraldine and Corentine, who, her eyes shining 
with joy, murmured to herself : “ I said truly that the mar- 
riage would not take place, and here it is already delayed.” 

The marquise and her daughters accompanied Clo tilde 
and Fleurette to the head of the stairway ; and the duke 
gave his arm to his fiance down the stairs to the door of 
the carriage, when, addressing his coachman and servants, 
he said : 

“ Do not forget that you are at the orders of made- 
oiselle de Keroualle.” 

Then turniug towards her, as she was about entering 
the carriage, he placed on one of her fingers a ring which 
had formerly belonged to his mother, a precious relic in 
which he had great confidence.. 

“ And now,” cried he, “ when shall I see you again ? ” 

“ I do not know,” she sadly replied. 

“ And you go away,” said he holding his arms supplicat- 
ingly towards her, “ without saying adieu to your fiance, to 
your husband! ” 

She lowered her eyes and made no reply. 

“ All he asks, however, at parting and in exchange for 
his ring is a souvenier — a kiss ! ” 

“I forbid it! ” cried the marquise from the stairs. 

“And I permit it,” -said Fleurette, pushing her god- 
mother into Fernand’s arms, and he became so excited that 


236 


FLEURETTE. 


in pressing his fianc& to his heart his lips met hers, and in 
his joy he murmured : 

“ Thank you, Fleurette ! ” 

The young girls entered the carriage, the door was 
closed, and the horses soon disappeared. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

As had been agreed upon they stopped for a moment in 
the boulevard de la Madeleine. Fleurette gave her instruc- 
tions to Michelette, as to what the latter should do during 
her absence, which ought not to be long, and a quarter of 
an hour later, drawn by two vigorous horses at a trot, they 
arrived at the Eastern railway. They entered a railway 
carriage and started on their journey. 

That same evening they arrived at Nancy, after having 
spent the day in conversing of their fears and hope's, 
love and friendship ; that is to say their conversation had 
been about Fernand and aunt Beatrix. 

The convent of the Sainte-Marie sisters, in which Beatrix ' 
lived as a lady pensioner, was a jrious asylum inhabited by 
holy daughters and directed by a woman of superior merit. ! 
She had given the sick aunt the most attentive and intelli- 
gent care, and received the ‘niece with a kindness altogether - 
maternal. 

Clotilde at once asked to see her aunt, and nothing could 
be more touching than their interview ; Beatrix was so 5 
happy to hear the voice of her niece, to clasp her hands in 
h«r own, and to receive her kisses, that they feared for the j 
result of the emotion caused by the visit. It might prove ’ 
fatal. On the contrary, it seemed to do her good ; that 
night she was easier, and the improvement continued the 
next day, or at least the violent fever, which had nearly 
carried off the patient, abated somewhat in intensity; it 
was a very feeble hope, doubtless, but what w r as of more 
consequence, was the confidence which Clotilde’s arrival 


FLEURETTE . 


237 


had given the invalid. She was now certain of living, she 
was saved ! Her dear niece was with her. And from this 
moment ; and whatever should be the issue of this terrible 
struggle between life and death, Clotilde understood that 
her place was at the bedside of the patient ; but she had 
great difficulty in making Fleurette understand that the 
latter’s presence was now needless to her, and that she ought 
to return to Paris to attend to her own affairs. 

“But you suffer, godmother and I ought to be here.” 

“ And Ae,” tenderly answered Clotilde, “ doubtless he 
also suffers. Return to Paris so that he may have news of 
me. I cannot write to him, it is not proper and is impos- 
sible : but for you it is different ; I will write to you from 
day to day whatever happens to me here ; the recovery of 
my aunt, her convalescence, and my approaching return, so 
that you may be able, after that, to — ” 

“ To again fix the wedding-day,” said Fleurette, smiling. 
“ You give me such good reasons that I have nothing to re- 
ply. I will obey you and return by the next train.” She 
was going away, but turned back. 

“ You still trust in me, god-mother, do you not ? and at 
the least danger and at the least sorrow, you will recall 
me ? ” 

“ I promise you to do, so,” said Clotilde embracing her. 

Fleurette left, and Clotilde, returning to her aunt, estab- 
lished herself in the sick-room, which she no longer left day 
or night. 

On the day of Fleurette’s departure the patient had im- 
proved and had recovered enough strength to speak. 

“ Oh ! my dear duchess ! ” said she holding out her hand 
to Clotilde, “this illness has come at a time very malapropos 
for your marriage.” 

“ Never mind, aunt; you will soon assist at it, and if 
that is all that disturbs you — ” 

“ There is yet another thing ; for I, whose life has so long 
been tranquil, have received two shocks in succession, which 
has perhaps caused my illness — two such unforseen events ! ” 

“ What are they, my good aunt ? ” 

“ In the first place, your marriage ; and then another 
piece of news which has completely upset me.” 

“ Tell it to me ; but not if it will fatigue you too much.” 


238 


FLEURETTE. 


“ Oh ! no, it will do me good, all the more that it is our 
dearest family interest, and I can speak of it to you alone.” 

She meditated an instant, then, holding the young girl’s 
hand in her own, she continued : 

“I have always loved you dearly, my Clotilde, but there 
is another whom I have loved almost as well, the wickedest 
member of the family, my dear nephew, Jean de Keroualle, 
your brother, who is much older than you.” 

“ But he died,” said Clotilde,” a long time ago.” 

Beatrix, whose emotion was visible, shook her head nega- 
tively : she wished to continue but her tears prevented her. 
Clotilde placed her hand over her aunt’s mouth and forbade 
her saying another word. Beatrix then made a sign 
with her hand to open the drawer of a small stand placed 
near her bed. Clotilde found a letter in it bearing the New 
Orleans post-mark. She carried it to her aunt, who, point- 
ing to the date of its arrival, indicated that she had only 
very recently received it. She made Clotilde a sign to read 
it, which the latter accordingly did. It was couched in the 
following terms. 

“My dear and. venerated aunt, 

“ Do not let the signature of this letter make you believe 
“in ghosts. Your nephew Jean, who has caused you so 
“ many troubles and whose part you always took and whom 
“ you loved so much, still lives. You will probably say ; ‘that 
“is nothing — only one scapegrace the more.’ No, aunt: 
“ time, fatigue, a wandering life and hard labor have entirely 
“ changed him. You would no longer recognize him except 
“ for one thing ; he still loves you. Yes, aunt, from a worth- 
“ less nobleman I have become a good and honest merchant^ 
“ At last, and not without difficulty, my fortune is solidly 
“ established ; but I am getting old, and have been overtak- 
en with the gout and other ills which pin me down to this 
“ abominable country ; were it not for that I would have 
“ gone to you. So come then to me, my good aunt ; that 
“ in my mature age I may be able to repay you the happiness 
“ and care that you lavished upon me in my younger days. 
“Bring my sister also, for I ought to have a very young one 
“ who came, as I have been told, after my departure to 
“ to bring consolation and joy to the paternal mansion in 


ELEURETTE. 


239 


“which I left nothing but sadness and ruin. Is life less 
“ rigorous for you, my good aunt ? I dare not hope it. In 
“ any case, and that you may come to me as soon as possible, 
“ I send to you and my sister the enclosed draft, which you 
“ will not refuse from your nephew, 

Jean. 

“ P. S. — Jean d’Auray and Co., New Orleans ; that is 
“ my address : no one here knows M. de Keroualle, the gen- 
tleman; they only know Jean d’Auray, the merchant.” 

This letter contained a draft for thirty-thousand francs 
on a leading Parisian banker. 

Clotilde was as moved as her aunt had previously been 
eat learning, from this tender and devoted letter, of the exis- 
tence of a brother who for so many years she had believed lost 
to her. She was astonished at the sudden changes and caprices 
of fortune, which, after having left her so long without re- 
sources, now overwhelmed her with its favors and sent her, 
in her brother, a second protector, when she had already 
found one in the duke d’Olona, her future husband. 

This draft, which was drawn at eight days sight, very 
much disturbed Beautrix. 

“ Rest easy, aunt,” said Clotilde, “ I will get it cashed at 
Paris by an intelligent and trustworthy person, for whom 
I will answer as for myself.” And she sent it to Fleurette. 

“ Promise me,” said Beatrix, “ that if I do not recover 
from this illness you will go with your husband to see your 
brother Jean, my poor nephew.” 

“ What an idea, aunt ! You will go there with us.” 

“ God willing! But, after all, if I cannot, swear that you 
will carry him my last adieux and my blessing ! I know 
him, my poor Jean, and that would give him more pleas- 
ure than all his new riches ; so you will swear it to me, be- 
fore God ! ” 

“ Yes, aunt; but you are talking too much. So now, 
silence ! We will speak of him again soon, when you have 
recovered.” 

Heaven did not realize these hopes. After the second 
day the crisis which had so frightened the physician assumed 
a new intensity. A dangerous and mortal eruption soon 
made its appearance, a disease extraordinary and very rare 


240 


FLEURETTE. 


at the age of aunt Beatrix. She had not been inoculated 
in her infancy, and since then the Keroualle family, like 
most of the inhabitants of Britany, had always professed 
an invincible repugnance to vaccination, and all new dis- 
coveries in general. There was no longer room for doubt ; 
the small-pox declared itself in all its violence, and Clotilde 
redoubled her attentions to her poor old aunt, whose death 
was now certain, as she did not wish to lose any of the last 
moments of her unfortunate relative, and did not quit her 
for an instant. 

In vain the physician sought to frighten her with the 
dangers which menaced her ; in vain the superior of the 
convent joined her entreaties to the doctor’s; she declared 
that her place was beside her aunt who had no other relative, 
that it belonged to her to close her eyes, and that nothing 
would prevent her from fulfilling that sacred duty : and she 
kept her word. 

Beatrix, overcome by the strength of her disease, was 
unconscious of her niece’s devotion, which, had she been 
conscious, she would not have premitted. She died holding 
Clotilde’s hand and murmuring her name and that of her 
poor nephew, Jean. 

As to the last sad duties, Clotilde wished that none, be- 
sides herself, should be exposed to contagion in rendering 
them. She alone took charge of everything : she prayed 
all night beside her aunt’s dead body ; put her in a shroud 
with her own hands ; and gave orders that a monument 
should be erected in the interior of the convent where her 
aunt had so long lived and prayed. This care she committed 
to the intelligent friendship of the superior, intending, as 
as soon as her marriage should take place, to return with 
her husband and kneel on the tomb of her aunt Beatrix, 
whom she would ask to bless their union. 


FLEURETTE . 


241 


CHAPTER XV. 

Clotilde’s heart and thoughts both recalled her to Paris. 
Without apprising Fleurette of her intention, for she did not 
wish to again disturb the latters occupations, she hastened 
to take her departure, thinking that there could not well be 
any incon Venice in her making the journey from Nancy to 
Paris alone, and by day, on the railroad. But when the train 
stopped at the station of Vitry le Francais what was her 
astonishment at hearing her own name pronounced ! She 
raised her eyes, and in the train facing her, which had also 
stopped at the same station on its way from Paris, she re- 
cognized a young girl who was holding out her arms towards 
her at the entrance of one of the cars. 

“ Open, open, monsieur ! ” said Clotilde to the only em- 
ploye who just then happened to be near. The two young 
girls threw themselves into each other’s arms. 

“ You, god-mother ! ” 

“You, Fleurette! ” 

“ Certainly. I was uneasy about you, god-mother, and I 
was right. So, when I left the convent, I begged the supe- 
rior to write to me at once if anything serious occurred, so 
that I could come and share your trouble with you, and I 
have arrived too late. But you are here, and as I have 
quitted my car I will enter yours and return with you to 
Paris.” 

All this had been uttered with Fleurette’s customary 
vivacity ; and now her god-mother asked her for news of the 
duke d’Olona and Fleurette answered her anxious inquiries. 
They retired into a corner of the station and, absorbed by 
their interesting conversation, neither of them noticed that 
both of the trains, which wait for nobody, had started on 
their different ways some time since, the one for Nancy, the 
other for Paris, and that they were alone in the station. 

“ Ah ! great heavens ! ” cried out Clotilde, when she dis- 
covered their predicament. 

X6 


242 


FLEURETTE. 


“ What will become of us ?” 

“We will go on by the next train,” tranquilly said Fleur- 
ette. 

They questioned an employe of the railway. The first 
train for Paris would not pass till nine o’clock that night. 

“ What shall we do till then ? ” asked Clotilde, 

“We can talk.” 

“ Yes,” said Clotilde, saddly, “ but this delay will cause 
us to be eight hours late. It is a very long time to have to 
wait.” 

“ Re-assure yourself, god-mother, we will talk of him and 
the time will pass very quickly, but let us not stay here.” 

“ But where shall we go ? you know no one at Vitry le 
Francais.” 

“ No, but let us go to an inn — monsieur,” said she to the 
railway employe,* “ which is the best inn here ? ” 

“ ‘ The Golden Bell,’ mademoiselle,” and he pointed it out. 

The two young girls marched off arm in arm. 

“ Have these ladies no baggage ? ” said a railway porter 
with an interested curiosity. 

“ I had some,” said Clotilde looking around her, but she just 
then remembered that her trunk, bearing her name and ad- 
dress, had remained in the train and had gone on to Paris 
without her. “ And money ! ” continued she, “ I have none.” 

“ I have, god-mother,” said Fleurette;“I have thirty- 
thousand francs about me in bank notes, which I was 
carrying to your poor aunt.” 

“Ah! my brother Jean’s .draft which you have got 
cashed — ” 

“ And which now belongs to you.” 

They soon arrived at the “ Golden Bell,” where the best 
room in the house was given them. The hostess was curious 
to know who two such handsome young ladies were, and 
brought them the hotel register in which to write their names. 

“ I will only put mine down,” said Fleurette in a low 
tone to her companion. “ They need not know that madame 
la duchessp has passed seven or eight hours at their inn.” 

They had scarcely been there an hour when Clotilde 
began to feel a heavines of the head, then pain throughout 
her whole body, next a chill which was followed by a burning 
fever which developed itself with frightful rapidity. She 


FLEURETTE . 


243 


comd scarcely stand, so Fleurette undressed her, put her to 
bed, and sent for the best physician in the city, an old prac- 
titioner who, by good luck, was a talented man. He would 
not hazard an opinion, nor commit himself ; he frankly ac- 
knowleged that he did not as yet know what disease was 
about to declare itself, but that it threatened to be serious, 
and the ladies must not think of continuing their journey. 
This news much distressed Clotilde and greatly increased 
the violence of her disease. 

Fleurette spent the night beside her god-mother, who was 
light-headed and delirious. She unceasingly pronounced a 
name which Fleurette knew only too well already, then she 
called her aunt, her brother Jean and Fleurette. 

“ Ah ! ” said the flower-girl, “ she summons around her 
all those she loves, and I alone respond to the appeal.''’ 

The delirium still lasted when the doctor arrived, next 
morning : he felt Clotild’s pulse and drew back alarmed. 

“ What is it ? ” asked Fleurette, with a frightened glance 
at his face. 

“ Don’t you see ? ” he answered, pointing to Clotilde’s 
hands, neck and face : “ the small-pox ! ” 

“ It is impossible ! ” cried Fleurette in a heart-rending 
tone. 

“ That’s what it is, and of the most dangerous type ; so I 
advise you, mademoiselle, not to remain here.” 

“ Why not ? ” asked she astonished. 

“ Because you will endanger your health and life, and at 
the least may be disfigured.” 

“ What does that matter ? ” cried she. “ Do I care to be 
pretty, I! But she — ” added she sorrowfully to herself. 

For three days Clotilde hovered between life and death, 
unconscious of her disease, her condition, or her danger. 
Heaven had returned to her the devotion she had lavished 
upon her aunt by sending to her aid Fleurette, young, active 
and intelligent, whose indefatigable attentions the physician 
said, greatly contributed to saving his patient. 

When Clotilde recovered consciousness she found herself 
in a darkened room, from which the light had been excluded 
as much as possible, and she inquired the cause of it. 

“ Rest easy, god-mother ; it was done in order to protect 
your sight, which is just now very feeble ; don’t speak, and 


244 


FLEURETTE. 


remain quiet. In a few days we will be able to return to 
Paris, and, until then, let us think of nothing but your re- 
covery.” 

“ But my family, my friends ! have you informed them of 
the accident which has happened to us ? ” 

“ Yes, god-mother,” answered Fleurette, who had written 
to nobody; knowing that one can always announce bad 
news soon enough, and also fearing, justly, to give too much 
joy to her god-mother’s family and too much grief to her 
poor lover. 

The doctor entered. He had followed attentively day by 
day, and almost hour by hour, the progress of the disease. 
At each visit his grave and silent air was far from encour- 
aging to poor Fleurette, who scarcely dared to ask him a 
question. This time a ray of hope shone on his features, and 
when Fleurette followed him to the door of the ante-chamber 
he whispered to her : 

“ I will answer for the patient.” 

Fleurette uttered a cry, which the doctor admonished her 
to repress. 

“ Silence ! she must not divine from your joy the danger 
she has passed through, and which excitement might bring 
back.” 

“ I will control myself, doctor, and will keep quiet.” 

“ In order to rejoice in full security, we must wait for 
the ninth day, which is near at hand.” 

“ Two days still ! But,” said she to the doctor, whom she 
all the time held by the coat-sleeve, “ you will answer for 
her life ? ” 

“ Yes, my child.” 

“ And,” continued Fleurette in a voice of emotion, “ will 
you also answer for another treasure, more precious yet, per- 
haps, to us women — ” 

The physician hung his head. Then, seeing the grief 
and fright displayed on the poor girl’s features, he said : 

“ I have known of many persons recovering from this 
terrible plague without retaining the slightest traces of it.” 

“ You have seen such ? ” quickly asked Fleurette. 

“Yes, my child, and in this case the blood is so young, 
so pure and so fine that all the probabilities are in favor of 
the patient.” 


ELEURETTE. 245 

Fleurette returned to her god-mother joyous and full of 
hope. 

“ If heaven ever performed a miracle,” she said to her- 
self, “ for whom would it do it sooner than for my god- 
mother ? ” 

She seated herself in her ordinary jdacenear the invalid’s 
couch, admiring Clotilde’s angelic calmness and pious re- 
signation. 

“ Do you suffer yet, god-mother ? ” 

“ Still a little.” 

“ And you never complain ! I would ; it relieves one — 
I would tell my sufferings.” 

“ I do not feel mine ! — You are here, and I think of 
him.” 

That day appeared long to Fleurette, and the next 
longer. It seemed as if the ninth day would never arrive. 

At last came the day which Fleurette had so ardently 
desired and which she .now feared. The physician declared 
the patient entirely out of danger, and Clotilde impatiently 
demanded that' she be permitted to get up and that the light 
should at last be let in. Fleurette trembled. 

u How excited you are!” said Clotilde. “What ails 
you ?” 

“ Me^ god-mother ? Nothing ! ” 

“ Well, then open the shutter.” 

“ Yes, god-mother.” 

Fleurette, supporting herself with difficulty, approached 
the window and, with a trembling hand, opened the shutter. 
The room became light, and Fleurette, casting a glance upon 
her godmother, uttered a cry and fell to the ground. One 
might have believed her to be dead. 

Clotilde hastened to her relief, placed her in the doctor’s 
hands, and ran to the mantel-piece on which she perceived 
a bottle. Iii taking it up she saw herself in the mirror. 
Astonished, she looked a second time, not believing it was 
herself she saw reflected in the glass. Then she turned pale, 
concealed her face in her hands, and cried out: “Ah, 
Fernand ! Fernand ! ” That was all that escaped her lips. 
She did not regret her beauty for herself, but for him ! She 
turned away calm and already resigned, supporting with an 
unaltered front the loss of the greatest fortune that God has 


246 


FLEURETTE. 


given to women. She perceived Fleurette, whom the doc- 
tor had with difficulty brought back to consciousness, and 
who threw herself sobbing into her god-mother’s arms, the 
latter forced herself to try and console her, but was unable 
to succeed. 

Of so many charms there no longer remained one. So 
much freshness and beauty had suddenly disappeared. Like 
the rose-stalk the day after a storm. 

The doctor seeking to distract the mind of the convale- 
scent, whom he would not yet permit to go out, brought to 
her room at the inn all the books and journals he was in the 
habit of receiving. He also told her the news, among other 
tilings which created a great deal of interest just then a 
frightful railway accident had happened some twelve days 
back, of which everyone was still speaking. A train on its 
way to Paris had had a violent collision with another train 
coming from that city ; one of the former’s cars had been 
overthrown and smashed to pieces ; the debris had taken 
fire from the flying sparks which had been aggravated by a 
violent wind. Many passengers had been wounded, some 
had perished, while others had even totally disappeared in 
the conflagration, and among these last was said to have 
been a person whose loss had produced the most painful 
sensation in the highest circles of Parisian society. This 
person was mademoiselle Clotilde de Keroualle. 

At this point in the physician’s narrative Fleurette 
trembled ; but Clotilde warningly pressed her hand, and 
made her a sign to keep silent. 

“ She was a charming young person,” continued the 
doctor, “ and was about to be married to the duke d’Olona 
the handsomest man and richest match in all Paris, a pas- 
sionate admirer of all that is beautiful, and who espoused 
this young girl for nothing but her beauty, since she was 
without any fortune.” 

Fleurette hastened to ask him how they had learned of 
mademoiselle de Keroualle’s death. 

“ In the simplest and, unfortunately, most certain way. 
On the morning of the day of the accident she had entered 
the train at Nancy, alone and without a maid, to return to 
Paris. She had been to Nancy to attend the death-bed of a 
beloved aunt, she had no other baggage besides a trunk, with 


PLEURETTE. 


247 


her name and address upon it, and a small box. They have 
found the trunk and box which no one had reclaimed. As 
to her, the car which she occupied with two other persons, 
none of whom escaped, is the very one consumed by the 
flames ! ” 

Fleurette raised her eyes to heaven in thanks ; and 
said to herself : 

“ Had it not been for our meeting my god-mother would 
have been lost ! ” 

“ And the duke d’Olona, monsieur ? ” asked Clotilde, al- 
most afraid to pronounce the name. 

“ They say that at first he would not believe the news, 
but that when it was no longer possible for him to doubt he 
became almost a lunatic. He has gone away, and no one 
knows where he now is.” 

Fleurette made a sorrowful gesture which Clotilde 
signed to her to repress, and, an instant later, the doctor, 
looking at his watch, arose and took his departure. 

“ I hope, god-mother,” cried Fleurette, “ that you are go- 
ing to write to all your friends instantly, and, if necessary, 
to all the journals that, thanks be to heaven, the news is 
false and that you, at least, have not perished in this horri- 
ble accident. This should be known at once.” 

“ For what good ? ” coldly replied Clotilde ; “ since they 
all believe me dead, why undeceive them? ” 

“ Gracious God ! What do you say? Dead! ” 

“ Am I not so, in effect,” she said sadly lowering her 
head, “ and what have I to live for, now ? ” 

“ And Ae, god-mother, the duke ? ” 

“ It is on his account I speak thus, on his account more 
than anyone else’s; an enthusiastic adorer of beauty, he 
would have married me only on account of mine, as you 
very well know. It was my only recommendation, and I 
no longer possess that.” 

“ Your only recommendation ! ” indignantly cried Fleur- 
rette. 

“ Yes,” replied Clotilde excitedly, “my only one in his 
eyes, for he did not know me ; he knew neither my heart 
nor my sentiments ; we have scarcely conversed five minute 
altogether with each other.” 

“ He shall know, them from me, and he will believe me.” 


248 


FLEUR ETTE. 


“ He will believe nothing but his eyes, and when he sees 
as I am one of two things will happen, Fleurette,” said she 
with energy ; “ either he will withdraw his word and break 
off our marriage, and then I should die of shame for myself 
and for him ; or, through respect for his promise or through 
a point of honor, he will believe himself obliged in the eyes 
of the world to marry me ; he would marry me from kind- 
ness and pity, but would never love me, and I should be a 
constant object of disgust and shame to him. Ah ! death 
is preferable to that. Believing me dead he will bestow 
upon me a few tears and regrets and will always see me as 
I was when he lost me, and always seeing me beautiful he 
will not cease to love me,” 

“ But you, god-mother, you ! ” 

“ I ! — I will be less unhappy, I will preserve my love for 
him, and perhaps will not be obliged to withdraw my es- 
teem from him.” 

Fleurette, who knew the duke’s character even better 
than her god-mother did ; and who, in her own case, knew 
with what facility and promptitude one beauty made him 
forget another, felt in her heart that her god-mother was 
right. Thus far Fernand had only been captivated by the 
exterior charms of his fiancee, and, these being gone, it 
was to be feared that his love would also depart. If he had 
only had time to become attached to the solid and durable 
qualities which she possessed his love would have probably 
been as lasting as these qualities, but now how make him 
desire to know them, and, above all, how bring Clotilde to 
his attention ? Just now this was not to be thought of. 
Hardly recovered from the frightful malady, whose traces 
were yet fresh, the trial would have been too uncertain yet 
to risk it. That was the reason why Fleurette was won to 
Clotilde’s idea. 

“ Well, let it be so, god-mother ; since the report of your 
death has got abroad, unknown to us, let us not yet con- 
tradict it ; and we will wait till we can find, and I hope it will 
be before long, an adroit way of bringing about a meet- 
ing between you and monsieur le due, which is all I ask.” 

“You will see that even at first his antipathy will not 
be so great as you fear, and the second impression will be 
all in your favor. Your wit, talent and that irresistible 


FLEURETTE. 


249 


charm which reigns in you will this time charm him in a surer 
and more lasting manner than your beauty did before. I 
have heard it said, god-mother, that when a woman who 
is — ” she hesitated to say the word. 

“ Ugly,” said Clotilde bravely. 

“ Well, yes,” frankly repeated Fleurette, “ when an ugly 
woman once makes herself loved, it is to the extent of 
adoration.” 

It is easy to understand why this is so, and it proves 
that her triumph is due to solid, irresistible qualities un- 
known to other women, or which those who possess nothing 
but beauty neglect to acquire. 

“ No, no, you wish to deceive me by false hopes. Look 
at that ! ” said Clotide, pointing to the glass, in which her 
features lately so handsome were now entirely unrecogni- 
zable. 

“Well,” said Fleurette gaily, “ it will be a masked ball 
conquest. I, myself, god-mother, have made such, with the 
duke, himself, for instance, whom I puzzled and charmed 
without any great difficulty, and I was far from being like 
you. Come, come, courage ! let us at least make the at- 
tempt.” 

One of Fleurette’s most precious qualities was her joyous 
temperament ; which, with her, frequently took the place 
of philosophy, a kind of philosophy which certainly, pos- 
sessed one great charm, that of being consoling; but all her 
gaiety often failed her when brought in contact with Clo- 
tilde’s sadness. 

The disease in all its different stages had lasted but 
twenty days, it was now entirely over,' and the doctor had 
kindly repeated that a few months would suffice, if not to 
make the trace of it entirely disappear, at least to consider- 
ably diminish them. Fleurette had great difficulty in 
persuading herself to believe this. But, on the other hand, 
all the troubles Clotilde had successively experienced had 
greatly enfeebled her, and she had a sharp cough which dis- 
quieted the doctor, who, without knowing her name and like 
all wbo knew her, had taken a great liking to her. 

“ You must go and spend three months at Nice,” he said 
to her. 

Fleurette was ready to go on the instant. 


250 


FLEURETTE. 


“ No,” said her god-mother, “ I have already kept you too 
long from Paris and your business.” 

“ What difference does that make ? ” 

“ Even on my account you must return home. Every- 
one will be astonished at your absence, and your accompany- 
ing a young woman everywhere with such devotion would 
perhaps make the truth suspected. Fleurette,” she contin- 
tinued, wiping away a tear, “I must recover my strength in 
solitude and prayer before daring to attempt the trial you 
propose to me, before seeing the duke again ! Just to think 
of it ! to be unrecognized by him ; to say to him ; ‘ It is I! ’ 
and to be repulsed by his looks or his heart, I could not 
experience it without dying of grief. When I feel brave 
enough to expose myself to this last and supreme effort I 
will write you to that effect. Until then I shall stay in 
Nice, which is an agreeable and hospitable city, in which 
strangers, even a woman alone, can find an asylum and pro- 
tection. Our doctor has promised to recommend me to an 
honorable family in that city, with which he is intimately 
acquainted. Thanks to my brother Jean I shall not be in 
need of money. And, besides, I told you the truth, Fleu- 
rette, when I got you to learn to write ; through that me- 
dium we will not be separated. We will write to each 
other every day.” 

In vain Fleurette wished to resist. It was the firm and 
immovable will of her god-mother. She had to give way ; 
and Clotilde, in parting from her, made her solemnly prom- 
ise that under no pretext would she tell the duke d’Olona 
that, his fiancee still lived. 


CHAPTER XYI. 

On arriving at Paris Fleurette found all her world very 
much disturbed, except Michelette to whom from time to 
time she had sent her orders and recommended silence : but 
all her adorers, who did not know what had become of her, 
were very uneasy, Ludovic believed that she had been car- 
ried off, and questions rapidly succeeded one another. But 


FLEURETTE. 


251 


as Fleurette owed an account of her actions to no one and 
was her own mistress she had no sooner signified that sh^ 
had no answer to make than all question ceased. 

The marquise de Keroualle, after Geraldine’s marriage, 
had gone to install her son-in-law, M. Kervalec, and wife in 
their office of Receiver-General and had then returned to 
Brittany with her only remaining daughter Corentine, who, 
on learning of Clotilde’s death, had triumphantly said : 

“ I said that her marriage would not take place ! ” 

That was the only epitaph she addressed to the memory 
of her instructress and cousin. 

The duke had manifested great despair. His friends 
saw that he was half crazy with grief. He could not ex- 
plain Fleurette’s absence, and, she not being there, life in 
Paris had become unsupportable to him. For some time 
family affairs had demanded his presence at Madrid and 
Havana, so he went to Madrid first. From there he had 
already written Fleurette many letters which had been un- 
answered. She now hastened to excuse herself ; reasons and 
pretexts did not fail her, for she invented them. 

“ On learning of her god-mother’s death she had wished 
to hasten to the scene of the disaster ; but being herself 
overtaken with a terrible illness, alone — in a strange 
inn — etc.” 

In short, though not very clearly, Fleurette partially ex- 
plained her absence and silence ; but from that time she 
never let a week pass without writing to the duke, so in- 
terested was she in getting news of him to send to her god- 
mother. Justice must be done the duke : in spite of his 
fortune he was an excellent young man and possessed a 
heart of gold ; he had recognized Fleurette’s sincere affec- 
tion for him and had given her his own in return. The 
proof of it was the frankness and confidence which existed 
in all his letters to her. The first few contained the sad- 
dest and most passionate allusions to the memory of poor 
Clotilde; his eternal love. Two months passed by, and, 
Vithout saying it, Fernand with his usual frankness let it be 
seen that although his tenderness was still the same yet his 
grief was less lively. This was only natural ; in a city like 
Madrid many distractions surround a man of the cluke’s 


FLEURETTE. 


age, character and fortune, in spite of himself and almost 
without his knowing it. 

• Meanwhile Clotilde, of whom her god-daughter each day 
asked the latest information in regard to her health, mean- 
ing her looks, wrote news to Fleurette which, though better 
than she expected, was still very sad. 

“ For two months I have been exceptionally and repul- 
sively ugly ; the last (the repulsiveness) alone commences 
to pass away,” wrote Clotilde ; u the red spots have dis- 
appeared. My desires are not great ; I only ask to be or- 
dinarily ugly. I aspire to be one of those plain ones who 
do not attract attention. My poor aunt frequently said 
that I was too beautiful ; that it was an evil ; which, a 
reasonable woman ought only to desire,’ this is her own 
expression, ‘ to be fyee from.’ Which means, that her en- 
trance into a salon should produce no surprise nor give 
place to any exclamation of admiration or disgust. Alas ! 
this has not been my fate ; I have the unhappiness of never 
being able to pass unperceived ; and of being remarked 
for my ugliness as much as I formerly was for my beauty,” 

Clotilde said that she had written to her brother Jean to 
inform him of their aunt’s death and to send the blessing 
which that the holy woman had in her last moments given 
to her well beloved nephew. To this brother, now her 
only friend besides Fleurette, she had told her entire 
life from her infancy up to the present ; the loss of her 
beauty, and the more than probable and still greater loss of 
her dreams of happiness. Her letter finished with tender 
caresses for her dear god-daughter. 

Alas ! the latter was far from tranquil; for fifteen days 
she had received no letter from Madrid. Fernand had 
ceased writing. 

Was he ill ? Fleurette’s friendship made her anxious, 
for she was almost as devoted to Fernand as she was to her 
god-mother. 

Aside from the fact that she had received no letter from 
him in some time, another circumstance rendered Fleurette 
uneasy in regard to Fernand. 

M. Henriquez, a young secretary of the Spanish embassy, 
often came to Fleurette’s to purchase bouquets and believed 


FLEURETTE, 


25 a 


he had discovered that the coquette always received him 
and listened to him with a gracious smile, above all when 
he brought news of the court of Madrid. So he would have 
invented rather than have had nothing to tell her, and re- 
cently he had told Fleurette how the duke d’Olona’s sadness 
had won him the sympathy and interest of all the great 
ladies at the Spanish capital, and how they endeavored to 
console him. The last dispatches, it is true, did not say 
that they had succeeded but everything made it probable, 
and he would in all likelihood he able to tell her something 
more definite when he came for his next bouquet. 

Fleurette, although furious, had as yet written nothing 
of this to her god-mother ; and one day, about five o’clock, 
having left Michelette in the shop, she retired to her little 
salon to reflect and become indignant at her ease. Seated 
with her back to the door and her feet on the andirons, she 
was thinking how, without letting this news reach her god- 
mother, she could prevent the evil from becoming any 
greater ; when, all at once, the door behind her was thrown 
open, some one took hold of her head and covered her fore- 
head with kisses, at which she turned around with indigna- 
tion and anger, uttered a cry, and let herself fall into the 
arms of the duke d’Olona, who cried with rapture, while em- 
bracing her : 

“ Fleurette ! — my dear Fleurette ! It is really you — I 
see you once more ! ” 

He then went on to tell her that he had received a letter 
at Madrid from a railway employ^, in France couched in 
the following words : 

“If monsieur le due d’Olona will send fifty napoleons to 
to M. Bremolard, ex-employe of the Eastern railway at Vitry 
le-Fran^ais now living in Metz, he will receive inform- 
ation of mademoiselle de Keroualle, his affianced, which he 
will perhaps believe he has not paid too dearly for.” 

“ Ah ! this is fine ! ” cried Fleurette, “ and I already 
suspected you of forgetting my poor god-mother!” while 
thus speaking she felt a cold shiver run over her body, but 
the little salon was not yet lit up and the duke was too ex- 
cited to notice her embarrassment. 

“ Well ? ” continued Fleurette. 

“ Well ! ” said the duke, “ I did not wish to leave to 


254 


FLEURETTE. - 


anyone else the duty of interrogating this employe, so I 
instantly put myself en route. I thought only of her; but 
on the railway from Madrid one does not travel as rapidly 
as thought; that will soon come to pass, however, thanks to 
the new railway from Pampeluna to Saragossa. At length, 
however, I arrived in Metz and hastened to M. Br&nolard. 

“ 4 Here’, I said to him, 4 are fifty napoleons, and more 
if necessary, speak ! ” 

44 4 Monsieur le due,’ he replied, 4 I only wish to draw 
your attention to a particularly strange incident. The car 
which was crushed and burnt up was numbered 232. The 
day of the accident the train from Nancy stopped at Vitry- 
le-Francais , where I was then employed ; I was the only 
one just then about the station, and I can swear that a 
beautiful young gentle-woman, whose description exactly 
tallies with that which the journals have since given of 
mademoiselle de Keroualle, descended from car 232 at that 
place. I myself opened the car-door at her request, and I 
will swear that car left without mademoiselle de Keroualle 
re-entering it.’ ” 

“ 4 Well ! ’ said T, 4 what do you conclude from that ? ’ ” 
44 4 That if she left the car at Vitry-le-Francais she 
could not have been where the accident occurred, which 
was some distance from there and several hours later ; and 
that there is a chance of her being still alive.’ ” 

“ 4 Why,’ I said, 4 did you not, at the time of the acci- 
dent, make this statement to the agent at Vitry-le-Francais 
or to your chiefs ? ’ ” 

44 4 Because for a long while I have had a grudge against 
my officers, who have retired me without a pension ; and 
because my statement might perhaps have rendered them a 
service, and I was not paid for that. But when I learned, 
later on, from the journals that mademoiselle de Keroualle 
was affianced to a rich Spanish nobleman I said to myself : 
44 This information will perhaps have some value for him.’ ” 
44 Such was the ex-employ6’s recital,” said the duke, 44 and 
that is all I could gather from him. What do you think of 
it, Fleurette ? Of what consequence is it ? ” 

“None!” said Fleurette, who had had time to recover 
herself, and who understood that an investigation made 
at Vitry-le-Francais would bring about the discovery of 


FLEURETTE. 


many things. “ It is only that some one wished to specu- 
late on your generosity, that is all. If my poor god-mother 
had stopped anywhere on her journey, if she had got out at 
Vitry-le-Francais , or any other place, she would have taken 
her trunk and other luggage with her; but, unhappily, it 
arrived at Paris alone and without her.” 

“ That is true,” said the duke. 

“And, finally, if she was still alive, in whatever place 
she might be, what would prevent her from letting us know 
it?” 

“ That is so ! that is so ! ” repeated the duke, convinced, 
“it is absurd, but there are absurd hopes which one re- 
nounces only wuth sorrow.” 

The incident had no further result, and Fleurette has- 
tened to make known to her godmother, and to point out 
for her recognition, this good trait in Fernand, who, on an 
indication so uncertain, had instantly abandoned all the 
temptations of Madrid. 

But Madrid was not the only city in the world where 
there were pretty women and other distractions. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

Since the duke’s return to Paris the recenUand roman- 
tic remembrance of his proposed marriage had awakened 
all sorts of hopes and ambitions. He had wished to marry, 
why might he not wish to again ? He had wished to espouse 
a poor and pretty girl ; all those without fortunes immedi- 
ately began therefore to set their caps at him, which did 
not prevent the rich ones from doing the same. All the 
manoeuvres of beauty, intrigue and coquetry were put in- 
to play to attract his attention and seduce his heart. He 
was in danger on all sides ; from the duchess-dowagers, who 
fought for their grand-daughters, to the young widows, who 
fought for themselves. But all the aspirants, whatever their 
rank or age, without knowing it, encountered a rude adver- 
sary in Fleurette. One should have seen with what courage 


256 


ELEURETTE. 


she defended her god-raother’s interests, with what ceaseless 
attention she foresaw danger, and with what address she 
turned it aside. 

Fortunately, the duke, still sad and weary, seemed to 
take no pleasure in his life except when he was conversing 
with Fleurette. He told her, without attaching any impor- 
tance to them, of the invitations, advances, tendernesses 
and ardent devotions with which he was overwhelmed, and 
Fleurette, while treating his self-esteem with caution, laugh- 
ingly demonstrated to him their interestedness. 

“You must,” wrote she to Clotilde, “hasten to become 
beautiful once more, my dear god-mother ; but hasten at 
your leisure, and until then you can rest easy ; so long as 
monsieur le due has confidence in me nothing is to be 
feared.” 

This confidence, of which Fleurette spoke, seemed to 
increase daily, as also the duke’s friendship ; twenty times 
had he wished to occupy himself with the fortune and the 
future of the flower-girl, but she had proudly recalled to 
him their previous conditions of friendship. 

“ You have sworn that you would love me enough not 
to give me anything, and I count upon your keeping your 
word.” 

Fernand respected her pride: he no longer offered her 
anything, but he made her accept favors without knowing 
it. This was one of his favorite amusements, amusements 
fit for a prince. We will cite one among others. 

Fleurette’s shop was situated on the boulevard de la Mad- 
eleine, and she had succeeded in making it the fashion ; but 
she foresaw with uneasiness that at the expiration of her 
lease her proprietor would more than double her rent. 
This bothered her very much, and the duke in order to re- 
assure her had at first offered her the money necessary to 
renew the lease. His proposition was so badly received 
that he did not insist, but, without saying anything about 
it, he quietly went and purchased ‘the whole house. 

Besides her shop, which faced the north, Fleurette had 
for her own particular habitation, three or four pretty rooms 
in the entresol looking out into the court yard situated on 
the south side of the house. Unfortunately this court al- 
ready sufficiently close, was shut in by a wall forty or fifty 




FLEURETTE 


257 


feet high which intercepted the sunlight, and Fleurette, like 
her flowers, could not live without her sun ; it was her joy 
and happiness. Very frequently her only Sunday recrea- 
tion was to go at noon and sit in the Champs-Elysees . 

What was her surprise then when one day she saw 
masons appear on the top of this very wall ! Her enemy 
gradually sank to the ground under her eyes, discovering 
to her delighted vision a superb garden, at the end of which 
arose a pretty little mansion. So henceforth her eyes w^ere 
constantly rejoiced by verdure and flowers and her windows 
inundated by waves of light. For some time she went into 
ecstasies over the providential chance which thus gave her 
air and space ; but she shuddered when thinking that this 
advantage, giving a, greater value to her appartment, would 
not only double, but triple the* price of her rent. 

Wishing to know her fate at once she addressed herself 
to the principal tenant in regard to renewing her lease. 
The tenant, a man sixty years of age, made her repeat her 
name and then gravely named a price much lower than she 
was already paying. Fleurette looked at him closely, and, 
suspecting him of an intention which had never entered his 
head dryly replied : 

“ Monsieur, here are my intentions : not a cent more and 
not a cent less than the actual rent. Does that suit you ? ” 

“Yes, mademoiselle,” he answered, astonished, “but I 
am not ordered to rent it so high ; and I must inform you 
that I shall be obliged to include in your lease the possession 
of the garden in front, I cannot let it otherwise.” 

“ And why is that, if you please ?” 

“ Because these are the formal orders which I have re- 
ceived from the new proprietor, whose letter on the 'subject 
I was reading when you entered, and I have not had time 
to finish it.” , 

He looked on his desk for a letter which he read over 
again. 

“Ah' gracious!” cried he, greatly troubled, “he re- 
commends me to do all this with great address, and above 
all not to mention him .” 

He had scarcely finished, when Fleurette tore the letter 
from his hands and read at the bottom of the page the 
name : duke d' Olona, 


17 


258 


FLEURETTE. 


“ Very well, monsieur,” said she throwing the letter 
back on his desk, “ I will arrange with the proprietor him- 
self.” 

That evening she created a scene with Fernand, who 
supported her reproaches with a heroic sangfroid. 

“ I will put my rents at whatever price I choose. YouFs 
shall be diminished one half and, if you say a word entirely. 
I am the master, that is to be ; and if you are not satisfied, 
send the sheriff’s officers to me.” 

“ I will send them ! ” said she in a rage. 

“ I defy you to ! ” 

She looked in his face, began to laugh, and ended by 
throwing herself into his arms, crying out at the same time : 

“Vanquished, my noble duke! — I acknowledge myself 
vanquished ! but,” said she, threatening him with her finger, 
“ don’t let it happen again ! ” 

He held out his hand to her, and peace was made. 

One more such act should be related, as it is not entirely 
foreign to the concluding part of this recital. 

Early one morning Fleurette had descended sad and 
discouraged to the shop ; she had been thinking of her god- 
mother nearly all night. When Michelette arrived she was 
wiping her eyes. 

“And you also are sad,. my poor girl!” said Fleurette, 
“ what is the matter? ” 

Michelette, who w T as an excellent girl, told her of a sad 
sight she had just witnessed : she had for neighbors, on the 
fifth floor mansard in which she lived, a poor paralytic 
woman and her husband, an old soldier, minus a leg and 
arm ! — “ And in spite of all that,” continued Michelette, 
“ they had been for some time the happiest people in the 
world!” 

“ How is that?” inquired Fleurette, much astonished. 

“They had a son ; a charming fellow, active, intelligent 
and laborious, who was in the merchant service, and all he 
earned he gave his parents, whom he supported. At last, 
thanks to his good conduct and recognized talents, he was 
about to obtain a position as — it is very difficult to pronounce 
— super-cargo I believe they call it, and his father’s and 
mother’s future was assured.” 

“ Well ! ” said Fleurette, “ where is the misfortune ? ” 


FLUERETTE. 


259 


u This he is twenty-one. He arrived from Havre yester- 
day to be present at the conscription, and he has drawn 
number tico. Allis lost. He must go. — Early this morning 
I entered the home of his despairing parents, and what do you 
think I saw ? The old soldier wished to throw himself out 
of the window, as then his child would be the only son of 
a widow, and would not have to leave home.” 

Fleurette uttered a cry of horror. 

“And how much money will it take to get him off? ” 
she quickly asked. 

“ Three thousand francs, his father said. Is it to be 
dreamt of ? Is it possible ? ” 

“ I haven’t that much,” said Fleurette, regarding her 
secretary. “ And if God does not come to our aid — ” 

At that moment the well known trot of a horse was 
heard on the boulevard, and it stopped before the shop. 
The animal faithful to his habits, did not think of passing 
by without making his customary halt. A cavalier dis 
mounted, and entered the shop. 

“ You, monsieur le due,” cried Fleurette, “ and so early.” 

“ Yes ; I was in a detestable humor and could not sleep 
all night, so I got up early and am going to make a tour of 
the bois in search of health and happiness.” 

“ You need not go so far to find them,” said Fleurette. 
And then, without further preamble and looking him in the 
face with a smile the duke never knew how to resist, she 
went on : “ Monsieur le due. I have sworn never to ask for 
myself; but I did not swear that I would not ask for others 
who are unfortunate, and I now need, this very instant even, 
an enormous sum. 

“ How much ? ” 

“ Three thousand francs ! ” 

He took a pen and paper from the counter, and prepared 
to write. 

“Listen! ” cried Fleurette, “that you may at least know 
what it is for.” 

“ If you know, Fleurette, that is sufficient. It must be 
for an honest and praiseworthy purpose.” 

“ Yes, but it is right that you should know, so listen.” 
And she related to him what she had just learned from 
Michelette. Whil§ she was doing this the duke drew a 


260 


FLEURETTE. 


check on his hanker, but in place of three he wrote four, 
and smilingly handed the paper to Fleurette. 

“ Ah ! ” cried she, seeing his contented air, {< ah ! — your 
good humor has returned to you, as I said it would. — Now, 
monsieur le due, continue your ride, it will be a pleasant 
one. You can think of the happiness you have created 
and which will bring blessings upon, you.” 

As Fernand went off at a gallop Fleurette turned to 
Michelette, and said : 

“ Good news never arrives too soon. Tell me where 
your poor friends live ? ” 

“ In the same house I do ; M. R6my, fifth floor.” 

“ I am going there,” said Fleurette. “ Finish opening 
the shop.” 

She put on a shawl and hastened off. In a quarter of an 
hour she was at the house Michelette lived in. 

“ M. Remy ? ” she inquired of the concierge, who was 
scarcely awake yet. “ Fifth floor, first door to the left.” 

She hastily mounted the stairs and arrived at the fifth 
floor all out of breath. Although a key was in the door in- 
dicated she knocked, and at the response “ Enter ! ” she 
opened it, not expecting the sight which presented itself to 
her eyes. 

There was no other furniture in this room besides a chair 
and a cot. On the latter was seated a handsome young 
man apparently from eighteen to twenty years old. He 
was bareheaded and doubtless was dreaming for he scarcely 
noticed the door open. Ilis reveries could not have been 
pleasant, for great tears shone in his handsome large black 
eyes and ran down his cheeks. He clasped his hands to- 
gether in a convulsive manner, praying with fervor and 
doubtless calling on some good angel to come to his aid, 
and he ought to have believed himself answered on seeing 
the head of the young girl who had opened the door. 
Fleurette had stopped, motionless and surprised, her hand 
still resting on the key and her body half outside the door. 

“ Monsieur Remy? ” asked she, in a timid voice. 

“ I am he, mademoiselle.” 

“ The former soldier ? ” 

“ That is my father — the door further on.” 

“ I was going to him, but first,” and she advanced into 


FLEURETTE. 


261 


the room, “learn that you will not have to go away, you are 
exempted.” 

“ That is impossible ! ” and he made a movement which 
ihe hastened to repress with her hand. 

“It is possible, and the proof of it,” she continued, 
throwing on his cot a small piece of paper, “ is that here is 
a check for four thousand francs on a Spanish banker, rue 
Saint Georges . Run quick and get it cashed. — It is not I, 
monsieur, whom you must thank,” she added, “but the duke 
d’Olona, a noble lord ; he alone merits your gratitude, and 
that of your family.” 

And as, bewildered, beside himself, the young man was 
about to throw himself at her feet, she reclosed the door 
and disappeared. Poor Remy carried his hand to his fore- 
head. 

“ It was,” he muttered to himself, “ an angel, a dream, 
a vision ! ” 

Meanwhile a paper was lying on his cot, and the words 
on it : “ Good for four thousand francs ,” signed, 

“ d’ Olonaf told him that the dream was a reality, and the 
angel the prettiest girl he had ever seen. 

The next day Fleurette saw hasten into her shop a young 
and handsome fellow, slender, active and vigorous, with the 
air of a sailor, an erect head, proud eye, and joyous air; M. 
Urbain Remy. The day before, having cashed his check, 
he had hastened to the duke’s whom he had not found at 
home. He had returned there again on the same day in 
order to express all his gratitude and to say to the duke 
that he belonged to him body and soul. The duke had re- 
plied that it was to Fleurette he owed his thanks, for it was 
she who had pleaded for him. Urbain was not ungrateful, 
and felt thankful to both. The duke had then conversed 
with him and had found him talented and intelligent, with 
a desire to get on in the world ; and as Fleurette’s proteges 
were his own he had recommended him to a trans-Atlantic 
steamship company, of which he was one of the principal 
shareholders. 

If the poor young man had been charmed with Fleurette 
in morning dress yesterday in his garret how much more so 
Was he on seeing her inside her marble counter in an ele- 
gant and coquettish toilet, and surrounded at the moment 


262 


FLEUR ETTE. 


by half a dozen young noblemen, whose servants and horses 
awaited them in the street. He took her for a great lady, 
and almost mute and speechless he with difficulty murmured 
a few words of thanks which Fleurette graciously listened 
to but which she scarcely heard. The young secretary of 
the Spanish embassy, Don Henriquez, had come to announce 
important events to her. 

Urbain withdrew dreaming. His mother, on seeing him 
so sad, could scarcely believe him the bearer of such good 
news. 

Meanwhile Ludovic, remaining near Fleurette, had upon 
this day redoubled his ardor and gallantry. He played a 
strange and inexplicable role, unless love was the explana- 
tion of it all. Since the day when he had been, as he said, 
fooled by Fleurette, he had detested, then forgiven her ; 
then detested her again, proclaiming publicly that for noth- 
ing in the world would he attach himself to the chariot of 
such a coquette, and each day, without acknowledging it to 
himself, he loved her better than ever. The duke d’Olona’s 
first attentions had thrown him into transports of despair and 
rage, all the greater that he believed himself bound in honor 
to play the part of indifference towards her. How he was con- 
vinced, not that Fleurette had fooled with the duke, who, 
amidst all his familiarity, had so much true friendship and 
sincere respect for her that there was no reason for suspect- 
ing such a thing ; but he did believe, as did all the world to 
its own great astonishment, that nothing had passed between 
them but what could be acknowledged in broad daylight. 
This belief allowed Ludovic to cease dissimulating any 
longer, and he declared himself anew the adorer of Fleur- 
ette, a pretention at which the duke was in no wise offended, 
and of which he was apparently unconscious. On this day, 
then, Ludovic was more assiduous and pressing than ever. 
He believed that he had rendered Fleurette thoughtful ; she 
was simply wearied and preoccupied. 

Don Henriquez had announced to her, under the seal of 
secrecy, that there was a rumor at the Spanish embassy of 
a marriage between the duke d’Olona and a charming young 
person half Spanish and half French. Many times already 
had Fleurette heard similar reports, but it was from the 
duke himself that she had heard them. He had not spoken 


FLEURETTE. 


263 


to her of this one. and yet it was noised abroad, and she 
had not seen him since yesterday morning. Two whole days 
without seeing him ! This disturbed her very much on her 
god-mother’s account, whose bulletins also were far from 
reassuring. 

“I look at myself in vain,” she wrote, “I cannot yet re- 
cognize myself ; still there is a little progress ; I was fright- 
ful, and positively I am now only ugly.” 

One can judge whether, in Fleurette’s present state of 
mind, she would receive Ludovic’s tender propositions 
kindly. Everyone else had gone away, and she hoped that 
he would also ; but seeing that he remained and that he 
continued his gallantries she stopped him, and said : 

“ Monsieur, the state of ignorance in which I so long 
lived might perhaps have excused in me inconsistency; but 
now I would be without excuse. Either the love you speak 
of is pretended or it is sincere. In the first case, I am too 
adroit to allow myself to accept it ; in the second, too honest 
to encourage it, for I shall always remain as I am, alone here 
with Michelette, or I shall quit it only to be married, which 
would be agreeable, monsieur, neither to you nor to me.” 

Ludovic did not appear so very much disconcerted at 
this blow, received in full front ; he bowed respectfully and 
went away. 

The next day Fleurette’s uneasiness increased, yet an- 
other day and the duke had not appeared. Urbain came, 
it is true, to buy a bouquet of violets for his mother, which 
he attentively examined for some time while he talked with 
Michelette and looked at Fleurette. He finally risked ad- 
dressing a word to her, and announced that on the recom- 
mendation of the duke d’Olona he had been appointed a 
mate on the fine iron steamship, Christopher Columbus, car- 
rying the mail and passengers from Havre and Southampton 
to St. Thomas, an excellent position which was worth four 
or five thousand francs a year to him, without counting 
perquisites. 

Fleurette took great interest in his good fortune, sin- 
cerely rejoicing over it ; but in reality she understood very 
little about it as she was thinking of something else. It was 
the third day that had passed without her seeing the duke. 

During the day she received a letter from madam e Du- 


264 


FLEURETTE. 


l’ussel, the ex-court jeweller, Ludovic’s mother, who begged 
her to come and see her at once, that very day, no matter 
at what hour. It was doubtless some order for flowers for 
a grand bailor fete, and when five o’clock, six o’clock, seven 
o’clock had struck, that is to say when there was no longer 
any hope of her seeing the duke arrive, for he never came 
any later than that, she concluded to go to madame Du- 
russel’s. 

It was night when she knocked at the door of the latter’s 
mansion, where she had not been for a long time. Never- 
theless, she recognized it perfectly well. Her heart beat in 
remembrance and, alas ! in fright, when she thought that 
without the providential meeting with her god-mother here 
would have been the tomb of her happiness, and her whole 
future. In comparing the life she now enjoyed, the fortune, 
consideration and friendship which surrounded her, with the 
misery, shame and contempt which would have been the 
necessary consequences of the fault of her inexperience, she 
therein found new reasons for thanking Providence, for lov- 
ing her god-mother, and for devoting herself, in her turn, 
to procuring another’s happiness. 

This time she ascended, not the little detached stair-case 
which led to M. Ludovic’s apartments, but by the grand 
stair-way which conducted to those of his mother. 

The latter was alone : she was pale, and had a depressed 
and suffering air. 

“Mademoiselle,” said she to Fleurette, pointing with her 
hand to a seat. “I have begged you to come to-day be- 
cause my son is absent from Paris and will not return until 
to-morrow.” 

Fleurette wondered what was the need of this precau- 
tiorr ; but she said nothing, and continued silently to listen. 

“ Mademoiselle,” said madame Durussel slowly, and 
weighing her words. “ I prefer approaching the question 
frankly. You know what it is about.” 

“I have not the slightest suspicion of it, madame,” re- 
plied Fleurette, who was beginning to get impatient at the 
other’s solemn manner. 

“ That appears to me rather difficult of belief,” replied 
the mother with bitterness ; “ I will apprize you of it. My 
son, forgetting all he owes the world, his position, and me, 


FLEURETTE. 


265 


his mother, dared to declare to me yesterday that he wished 
to marry you ! ” 

“ Oh, pshaw ! ” cried Fleurette, struck with surprise, “He! 
— marry me / — It is impossible.” 

“ But I tell you it is true,” majestically repeated the 
mother. 

“ Eh, well ! ” cried Fleurette gaily, “ I would not have 
believed him capable of it ; it is a fine action, which greatly 
recommends him to me.” 

“ One moment, mademoiselle, one moment ! ” said 
madame Durussel, seeking to smother her wrath, “ do not 
triumph yet, and condescend only to listen to me.” 

“As long as you please, madame!” And she arranged 
herself comfortably in her seat, while madame Durussel sank 
back into her’s. 

“ Mademoiselle,” continued the latter, “ with a person as 
clever as you I will not employ ordinary means. There is 
no reasoning with my son ; one might speak to him vainly 
of proper sentiments, customs and maternal love, he would 
not listen ; but I hope to find you more accessible to my 
arguments. I shall only employ one.” 

“ You will give me great pleasure,” answered Fleurette, 
who at the same time murmured to herself : “ it will be less 
tedious than I feared.” 

“ Mademoiselle,” said madame Durussel in a lofty and 
authoritative voice ; “ you do not love my son.” 

“ I was about to tell you so, madame, ” frankly said 
Fleurette. 

“ I was sure of it ! ” cried madame Durussel, with a 
triumphant air. 

“Eh, well! mademoiselle,” and she lowered her voice, 
“this ought only to be known us two, and certainly not by 
Ludovic : if you will give up marrying my son, I will give 
you here, this very instant, twenty-thousand francs in cash ! ” 

Fleurette felt a thrill of indignation, which suddenly 
quieted down and interpreted itself by a slight smile. 

This disdainful air did not escape madame Durussel, who 
thought that she might not have offered enough. 

“ Eh. well ! mademoiselle, thirty thousand francs! ” 

Fleurette remained unmoved. 

“ Forty ! ” cried the furious mother. 


266 


FLEURETTE. 


Fleurette answered not a word. 

Madame Durussel took a pocket-book from the drawer, 
and applroached Fleurette. 

“ Take time to reflect ; this is my limit, beyond which I 
shall not go. If you do not accept, you will repent your 
obstinacy. Fifty -thousand francs ! ” said she in a voice 
which-anger rendered almost unintelligible, “fifty thou- 
sand — ” 

And, holding out the port-folio, she awaited, trembling 
from emotion and anguish, Fleurette’s decision. 

“Madame,” said the latter in a voice fresh, pure, and 
slightly sarcastic, “ I thank you for the sum you are so will- 
ing to place at my disposal ; but as it has. never been my 
intention to marry monsieur, your son, and as I never shall 
marry him, I cannot conscientiously accept the wedding 
present you offer me. I am too honest a girl for that ! ” 

“ Is it possible! ” cried the madame Durussel, stupified : 
* why only yesterday my son declared he would marry you 
in spite of me ! ” 

“ But not in spite of me, madame,” responded Fleurette, 
with dignity: “You will condescend to acknowledge that 
my consent is as necessary as yours, and I refuse it.” 

She made a profound reverence and disappeared, leav- 
ing madame Durussel, pocket-book in hand, now (who can 
pretend to understand the eccentricities of the maternal 
heant?) almost. indignant that a grisette had dared to refuse 
her son. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

Flourette was still without news of the duke and in her 
uneasiness, was about sending to his house for information 
when a note arrived for her. It ought to have been deliv- 
ered much sooner, but the servant charged with delivering 
it had profited by his master’s absence to go on a frolic which 
had proved so agreeable that he had kept it up for two whole 
days. He had employed the third in getting sober and in 
recalling to his mind the duties with which he had been 


FLEURETTE 


267 


charged. He now came to beg Fleurette not to get him dis 
charged. She quickly opened the letter, written at the mo- 
ment of the duke’s departure, which contained only these 
words : 

“ My good Fleurette, business and necessity compel me 
“ to go to Havre ; I will return in four or five days.” 

Thus all the marriage rumors fell to the ground. But 
why this journey to Havre? Patience ! She would know 
before long. 

The next day, which was Sunday, as she no longer 
needed to go away from home to find plenty of air and light, 
from the window of her bed-room and salon in the entre- 
sol she contemplated the lawn and the baskets of flowers 
which shone in the sun and gladdened her eyes. To whom 
did she owe this comfort, this constant happiness ? To him ! 
She was thinking of him when he entered. 

He said that he had arrived too late the evening before 
to come to Fleurette’s, but early enough to finish his even- 
ing in three or four great houses, and had everywhere heard 
related the adventure (which madame Durussel herself had 
made public) of the pretty flower-girl’s refusing a son of 
good family, who had thrown himself at her feet, and fifty 
thousand francs, which had been thrown at her head. Every 
one was in ecstasies over her loyalty and disinterestedness, 
everyone except the duke d’Olona, who cried out : 

“ It does not astonish me. Fleurette is Ninon de Leu- 
das, plus bouquets and virtue.” 

“ Enough of this ! answer me first. What means this 
journey to Havre and these rumors of marriage? ” 

“ Who has told you of it ? ” asked he with surprise. 

“ It is true then ! ” said she turning pale. 

“Yes,” he frankly replied; “ but what astonishes and 
grieves me is that you have learned it from any other than 
me. I was just coming to consult you on this subject, 
Fleurette,” said he holding out his hand to her, “ and to 
talk it over with you as one friend does with another.” 

There was no getting angry at such excessive confidence ; 
she therefore resigned herself to it and sat down beside him 
on the divan, where he had thrown himself, and listened to 
him in silence. 

“ You can see, Fleurette, that the life I lead wearies me ; 


268 


FLEURETTE. 


to feel around one’s self and one’s fortune traps, snares, 
and feminine plots ; to distrust all kind looks and tender af- ~ 
fections ; and not to be able to clasp with confidence any 
pretty hand, except yours, Fleurette (and he pressed it to 
his lips), is almost not to live. I said as much to tne count 
de Castel-Mayor, my father’s brother and my only relative, 
the richest land-owner in Havana, who was just then in 
Paris on business concerning us both.” 

“ ‘ Eh, well ! if that is. the case,’ he replied to me, ‘ why 
not get married my dear nephew ? ’ ” 

“ I told him that such had been my intention, and how 
I was to have married some months back an adorably beau- 
tiful person, who had been taken from me, and whose 
memory would always be dear to me.” 

“ ‘ Listen ! } said he, ‘ have you sworn to remain faithful 
to her memory all your life ? ’ ” 

“ 4 1 do not say that ; but up to the present no one has 
Deen able to make me forget her.’ ” 

“ Good, monsieur le due,” cried Fleurette. 

“ Do you know what my uncle replied ? Why this : ” 

“ ‘ Nephew, I once knew a woman who, after the loss of 
her husband, wished, in her despair, to let herself starve to 
death. She was a friend of mine, so I went to her and said : 

“ If you intend never to eat, well and good ; but if you in- 
tend to eat again some day believe me that you might as 
well commence right away.” She believed me, and we 
made a charming dinner. What I said to her, nephew, I . 
say to you ; if you intend to marry at some future day, why 
not now, while you are young and everything smiles upon 
you ; while good opportunities present themselves ; and 
while 1 have an admirable one to propose to you. I have 
left an only daughter at Havana, to whom I shall soon re- 
turn. She is seventeen years old, your cousin, and her name 
is Giuseppa. I will say nothing of our fortune for you are 
even richer than we are-. But they say that you love beauty, 
and Giuseppa is the most beautiful girl in the colony ; I am 
not the only one who thinks so, for all of our inhabitants ; 
think likewise and have christened her the “ Spanish God- 
dess.” Such a marriage, which would certainly meet with 
your father’s approval were he alive, would greatly help the 
interests which now occupy us and consolidate our two 


FLEURETTE. 269 

families into one. I say nothing of my happiness, at this 
moment, Fernand, I am only thinking of yours.* ” 

“ My uncle ceased speaking, and awaited my response. 
I felt that what he had proposed was only reasonable, I 
found no serious objection to it, and yet I hesitated and re- 
mained silent.” 

“ ‘ Your intended was very beautiful, then ? * asked my 
uncle.” 

“ ‘ Admirable ! * I replied.” 

“ ‘ And you loved her ? ’ ” 

“ ‘ Certainly.* ” 

“ ‘ And she, on her side, loved you ? * ” 

“ At this question, Fleurette, I examined my memory 
and I was obliged to admit that it recalled nothing to me 
that would prove she had loved me ; in fact, I had scarcely 
ever spoken with her or heard the sound of her voice. And 
when my uncle, continuing his interrogations, questioned 
me in regard to her sentiments, her qualities and her talents 
I for the first time perceived that all that I had known of 
my future wife was her marvellous beauty, which had so 
seduced and fascinated me that I desired nothing else, asked 
for nothing more.” 

One may imagine Fleurette’s anguish while the duke 
was speaking thus. What he said was all true. He had 
only loved Clotilde for her beauty, and it no longer existed. 

“ And,” said she trembling, “ where is M. de Castel- 
Mayor, your uncle, now ? ” 

“ He has left. I went with him as far as Havre, where 
he embarked for Havana. We were obliged to wait for the 
mail steamer, which at this season leaves only on the 1st. 
and 15th. of each month. During this time he redoubled 
his entreaties with me.” 

“Well!** said Fleurette anxiously, “ and what answer 
did you give him?’* 

44 That I required time for reflection and to consult my 
' friends ; you see, Fleurette, that I thought of you.” 

“‘Never mind, nephew,* my uncle replied, ‘no one 
compels you. But for some time past, and for other import- 
ent reasons, you ought to have come to Havana, where you 
are anxiously expected. I ought to take you with me, to- 
day, but I will give you time for reflection. You can take 


270 


FLEURETTE. 


passage on the next steamer, that of the 15th. of this month, 
and can bring me your decision in person, and if you are 
still in doubt and hesitate you will hesitate no longer, I assure 
you, after seeing your cousin. I will expect you then at 
Havana.’ ” 

“ ‘ I will come.’ ” 

“ 1 You give me your word ? ’ ” 

“ ‘ Yes, uncle.’ ” 

“ He grasped my hand on it, and that is how we separ- 
ated. Now, Fleurette, that you know all give me your 
advice.” 

It would be difficult to describe all Fleurette had suc- 
cessively experienced while Fernand was relating with so 
much confidence and frankness the propositions of his uncle. 
Unfortunately it all appeared so reasonable that she sought 
in vain some successful way in which to defend the absent 
one, she could only think of one, she could say : 

“ Clotilde still lives arid loves you! ” 

But how could she do this without her god-mother’s con- 
sent. And besides had not this means, which would have 
formerly been so powerful, lost all its value ? But when 
the duke spoke of going away in fifteen days, of going to 
Havana, and of establishing himself there, she no longer 
trembled for her god-mother only. She comprehended, 
from the grief she experienced on her own account, how 
dear Fernand was to her ; she had such intense gratitude 
and affection for him, that, had he known it, would have 
made him as contented with such a friendship as if it had 
been love. This friendship inspired her with the most per- 
suasive of all eloquent actions ; she felt as if her heart was 
breaking, and burst into tears. 

“ Fleurette ! ” cried the duke, embracing her, “ what ails 
you ? ” 

“ You can ask me that when you wish to leave me for- 
ever, when you are going beyond the seas to seek a woman 
you do not know, or whom you only know from her father’s 
interested description; and, as beautiful as she may be, if 
she does not make you happy, a thing which constantly 
happens, to whom will you confide your troubles? Who 
will console you in your disappointment? I cannot go and 
sell flowers in Havana! — Ah!” cried she, clasping her 


FLEUR ETTE. 


271 


hands and falling at his feet, “ don’t go away, I beg you ! ” 
She was on her knees before him, and great tears rolled 
down her cheeks, ordinarily so laughing and fresh. 

Of all methods of pleading her god-mother’s cause this 
was perhaps not the least adroit. Fernand, moved and 
troubled, could no longer find in his turn a single good rea- 
son for going away, and contented himself with silently 
pressing Fleurette’s hand. A secret instinct told the young 
girl that he commenced to repent his promise. 

“ And after all,” said she, wiping her eyes and sitting 
down beside him, “ where is the necessity for a man of your 
age, rank and fortune to get married in such a hurry, as if 
he had to pay a notary’s fee to-morrow ? Great families 
persecute you with offers of their alliance, and beautiful 
women wish to receive wedding-ringsfrom you ; so declare 
distinctly that you love them all, but will marry nobody. 
After that declaration of independence, all the worse for 
those who venture to the attack, it will be at their own risk 
and peril.” 

While speaking the smile had returned to her lips and 
gaiety shone in her eyes ; the duke contemplated her with 
an inexpressible pleasure and-profiting by her advantages, 
she laughingly continued : 

“ There is no embarrassment but your fortune ! Rest 
easy, I will climb roo'fs and indicate to you, as on the other 
day, poor people to succor and unfortunate ones to console, 
I will make you a blessing to all the unhappy; I shall not 
fail, and will ruin you, I promise you ; trust to me for 
that ! ” 

“ Fleurette, ” cried the Duke, tendering her his hand, “ you 
are a brave girl, and one who gives good advice ; certainly,” 
continued he dreamily, “if Clotilde still lived, I would ex- 
pect to find happiness in a union with her ; but she is lost 
to me forever, — so I must choose between two counsellors ; 
my uncle who is wise, advises marriage ; and you — ” 

“ Who am still wiser, ” said Fleurette, “ advise bach- 
elorship ! ” 

“ That has only one inconvenience, it condemns me to 
solitude and ennui.” He stopped a moment, reflected, and 
then went on ; “ still I will accept it on one condition.” 

“ What ? ” asked Fleurette quickly. 


272 


FLEURETTE. 


“ Listen,” said he taking her hand, “ you are the gen- 
tlest and most amiable girl in the world, and to my eyes 
these are the least of your good qualities, — ” 

“ Thanks, monsieur le due.” 

“ Up to the present time you have been, my devoted 
friend — well ! be still more ; and I,” continued he loyally, 

“ finding in you the fulfillment of all my desires, will swear, 
on the faith of a gentleman never to get married ! ” 

Fleurette uttered a cry and, by a movement quicker 
than thought threw herself into his arms ; then, turning pale 
and her lips trembling, she drew back. The duke hastened 
after her, but she softly waved him off. 

“You hesitate?” said he, with fear. 

“No,” she answered with an expression of contentment, 

“ a single regret darkens my joy ; it is that if I am your’s 
to-day, after to-morrow I shall never see you again.” 

“Why not?” 

“ Because, to-morrow,” continued she energetically, “ I 
should drown myself ! ” 

“ What are you thinking of ! ” cried the duke fright- 
ened. 

“ Yes, there was one whom I love, not better than, but, 
as well as you ; my good and beautiful god-mother. And 
even when so much beauty no longer exists, to rob her of 
what belongs to her, what she loved, is such a crime in my 
eyes — that I should never forgive myself if I did it. — And 
you, yourself, monsieur le due,” said she in a penetrating 
voice, “ who are too loyal, would you, although you are free, 
have nothing to reproach yourself with in becoming faith- 
less to the memory of your poor fiancee ? ” 

“ Stop ! ” said the duke, turning away his head. 

“Judge then if I, who owe her all — ” 

“ Stop ! ” he repeated with emotion ; then taking her 
hand and speaking as if to a frightened child he was trying 
to re-assure, he said ; “ Fleurette, my good Fleurette, like 
all ardent hearts and lively imaginations you rush to ex- 
tremes. Fear nothing, I know how to respect your griefs 
and remembrances.” Then wiping away with his lips the _ 
tears which were still rolling down the flower-girl’s cheeks, 
he continued ; “ Let us wait awhile. Already as a friend 
you have given yourself to me — ” 


FLEURETTE. 


273 


“ Body and soul,” said the young girl fervently. 

“ And never,” replied Fernand with equal warmth, 
“ shall I give up such rights, no matter what may happen. 
As to what I was so ambitious as to dream of, and which 
so greatly frightened you,” said he, smiling, “ take time to 
think of it, my Fleurette, and let not your friendship for 
the past forever darken the future. Meanwhile, I will 
make the voyage to Havana, because I have promised to, 
but by doing so I do not intend to bind myself to anything. 
The marriage which your friendship fears for me is neither 
decided upon nor is it to be feared, since a word from you, 
as you know, will always be able to prevent it.” 

He then tenderly embraced her, saying; “I will see 
you again soon ! ” and went away much affected, leaving 
poor Fleurette in a still greater state of emotion 


CHAPTER XIX. 

After the duke’s departure Fleurette’s calmness and 
reason returned to her. She understood that there was 
but one thing to do ; she must write to her god-mother at 
once and tell her all that Fernand had said to her, with the 
exception of his last proposition. Clotilde must permit 
her to declare to the duke that his betrothed still lived, as 
that was the only way of preventing the voyage to Havana 
and the marriage with mademoiselle de Castel-Mayor, the 
“ Spanish Goddess,” the only way of escaping forever from 
other dearer alliances which Fleurette dared not consider, 
and the prospct of which gave her the vertigo. She could 
scarcely believe that all that had happened was real. She 
had been generous, magnanimous and heroic ; but she did 
not deceive herself, and felt that she needed all her heroism 
to help her, otherwise she could answer for neither his, nor 
her own, strength. So she had resolutely taken up her 
pen and was about to write to her god-mother when Mich- 


274 


FLEURETTE . 


elette entered with a letter from that very person. It con- 
tained only these words ; 

“ I shall arrive in Paris Monday, at two o’clock, by the 
Lyons railway ; meet me at the station.” 

Fleurette kissed the letter, and said to herself ; 

“ As usual, my god-mother comes to the aid of her poor 
Fleurette in a dangerous moment.” 

The next day at the hour appointed she was at the 
Lyons station with a carriage, awaiting Clotilde, who was 
not long in making her appearance. Alas ! she could now 
venture into Paris without fear of being known. Of all 
those who had formerly admired her brilliant and splendid 
beauty none would have now been able to recognize her, 
except Fleurette, who hastened to meet and to embrace 
her. 

“ You recognize me, then ! ” exclaimed Clotilde. But 
seeing the tears which glistened in Fleurette’s eyes she 
continued, with a sorrowful smile ; “ you did not recog- 
nize me, you guessed it was I ! ” 

They entered the carriage, and on their way Clotilde 
told how she had received an answer from her brother, 
the count de K6roualle, or rather Jean d’Auray, the mer- 
chant; a letter so full of tenderness that she had cried 
while reading it. She had informed him of their aunt’s 
death, and the loss of her own beauty and her fiance ; 
and in the brother whom she had never seen she had found 
the tenderest friend, the most devoted protector and the 
most ingenious and delicate of consolers. He begged her to 
come to him, who would always find her beautiful ; to him 
who would always love her ; and to him whom she could 
give once more happiness and a family. 

“Weill ” said Fleurette, “ and what do you intend to 
do?” 

“ My place is with my brother.” 

“You have another duty to perform, god-mother.” 

“ Towards whom ? ” 

“ Towards your fiance ! Only yesterday he said to 
me ; Ah ! if Clotilde lived, I would find happiness in a 
union with her : ” 

“ Is it possible ! ” cried the poor girl with a joy which 
approached delirium. 


FLEURETTE. 


275 

“Yes ; but, finding himself forced to give you up, ho 
may end by forgetting you : the beauties who surround 
him are so coquettish and perfidious.” And seeing that 
Clotilde regarded her with a frightened air she went on 
smiling, though sighing at the same time, “ Not all, god- 
mother ! but after all — ” 

“ Finish, I beg of you ! ” 

Fleurette then related to her the projects of the Havana 
uncle, carefully keeping back however that a word from 
herself would serve to frustrate them ; she felt that her 
god-mother would not be more than half grateful were her 
fiance saved at such a price. 

“ And your advice, Fleurette ? ” asked Clotilde, much 
disturbed. 

“ Is this ; I would tell him on the first occasion and 
with as little awkwardness as possible, as a strange history 
which I had read in a journal, of your aunt’s death, your 
devotion — your pretended death — and then, little by little, 
I would acknowledge the truth to him.” 

“All?” said Clotilde, trembling. 

“ The whole of it, god-mother. It is necessary.” 

“ Oh ! no,- not yet ! — I could not like him to be too sur- 
prised — too frightened — ” 

“ What are you thinking of !” cried Fleurette, indignant 
at that expression. 

“ That is the right word. I would like that before learn- 
ing our history he should meet me once or twice by chance, 
without knowing who I am you understand, so that he 
could become somewhat accustomed to my new face ; and I, 
on my side, would like to know what effect it has produced 
upon him.” 

“ That can all be arranged as soon as we are at home.” 

“ Where are you taking me ? ” 

“ Where , god-mother? why to my own apartment, of 
course — I mean yours. I have an apartment, in the entre- 
sol, looking on the court, where no one shall see you, no 
one wait on you, but myself ; it has a private entrance, not 
through the shop, but by the carriage entrance — and see, we 
have arrived.” 

A few minutes later, and Clotilde was installed in her 
god daughter’s apartments. Even in the rich and sumptu- 


276 


FLEURETTB. 


ous d’Olona mansion mademoiselle de Kbroualle could not 
have been served with more care and attention than she was 
at Fleurette’s. The flower-girl constantly quitted her 
flowers and customers to run up the private staircase to 
see if her god-mother wished any service. 

Clotilde had related to her the flourishing condition of 
her affairs. In the last six months she had expended scarcely 
any of the thirty-thousand francs her brother had sent her, 
and he had just sent another letter of credit on his banker, 
M. Newton, rue Caumartin. Jean d’Auray had recommended 
to the latter’s care his sister mademoiselle Jeanne Clotilde 
d’Auray, who would soon come to rejoin him at New Or- 
leans; he begged M. Newton to obtain a passport *for her, 
to fulfill all the necessary formalities, and finally to place 
at her disposition whatever amount of money she might 
need. 

“ The day after her arrival Clotilde wished to pay .her 
first visit to her banker. Her toilet was of the simplest, she 
was in black, still wearing mourning for her aunt. It was 
the middle of the day when she descended by the private 
stairway which led from the entre-sol to the shop ; she was 
conversing with Fleurette concerning their projects and 
methods for meeting with the duke d’Olona without his sus- 
pecting anything, when all at once Fleurette began to trem- 
ble. 

“What is the matter?” asked Clotilde. 

“ His carriage has just stopped on the boulevard ! ” cried 
Fleurette turning her head towards the door. “ He will be 
here in an instant.” 

“ Oh, heavens ! what is to become of me ? ” 

“ This is the very occasion we were seeking ; it presents 
itself, and must be seized upon. Come, recover yourself. 
Courage, god-mother !” 

The duke entered. Clotilde turned quickly towards the 
back of the shop, and appeared to be examining some rare 
flowers under glass frames. 

The duke went up to Fleurette ; but perceiving a woman 
of elegant figure and distinguished appearance he stopped. 
As she turned her back upon him he made a signal of curi- 
osity to Fleurette which seemed to say : “ Who is this 

beautiful lady ? ” 


FLEURETTE. 


277 


Clotilde seemed riveted to the same spot, and could not 
persuade herself to quit the flowers which she had already 
too long admired. At last, collecting all her strength, and 
her heart beating with terrible anguish, she decided to turn 
around. 

The duke, saluting her respectfully, bowed his head for 
an instant, then raised it with curiosity. Too perfect a 
gentleman not to be completely master of himself, he regard- 
ed the stranger with an amiable and gracious air; nothing 
in his eyes, nor in any of his actions, had betrayed, or al- 
lowed to be suspeeted, his impressions ; so that Fleurette 
and Clotilde were both happy at this first meeting, Clotilde 
being the most so, and she responded with a gracious bow 
to that of the duke, and hastening to quit the shop she dis- 
appeared on the boulevard. 

The duke threw himself into a chair, near a table, on 
which stood a camelia whose beautiful white flowers he 
spitefully plucked. Fleurette glided rapidly towards him 
to hear the decisive judgment which was about to fall from 
his lips. 

“ There is a poor young lady who is admirably ugly ! ” 
he smilingly murmured. 

Fleurette stood thunderstruck and confounded. The 
sentence was severe. It was true that that forehead, those 
pure features, and that velvet skin had been stricken by a 
plague which had everywhere left its traces, but Clotilde 
had still remaining her beautiful figure, her elegant form, 
and, best of all, her magnificent eyes and teeth. 

The duke seemed to withdraw his first decision, for he ad- 
ded an instant later : 

“ It is a pity ! for she has a figure and appearance which 
are — ” 

“ Admirable ! ” interrupted Fleurette, hoping to make 
him change his opinion. 

“ Yes ; masked she would be the most beautiful woman 
in Paris. Who is she ? ” 

“Mademoiselle Jeanne d’Auray, sister of a New Orleans 
Merchant.” 

“You know her. 

“Very well. She was an intimate friend of my god- 
mother, who greatly esteemed her. All that know her say 


278 


FLEURETTE. 


that she has an angelic character and an admirable mind, 
the most precious and desirable union of qualities in a 
woman.” 

“Ah!” said Fernand, with satisfaction, “so much the 
better ! That is a great offset, for she is very ugly.” 

“ Well ! monsieur le due,” cried Fleurette spitefully, “ all 
who have known her for some time quickly forget her ap- 
pearance, and cannot comprehend how she can be found 
ugly, there is such a kindness and charm in her'eyes, which, 
by the way,” said she sturdily, “ have always remained 
superb.” 

“How, always! ” cried the duke, laughing; “is she so 
very old then ? ” 

“No ; one can easily see that she is young by her smile 
alone, which has so much youth and sweetness ; and her 
teeth are like pearls.” 

“I did not see them.” 

“ All the worse for you!” said Fleurette, dryly ; “but 
what you could not divine are her talents. If you could see 
the marvels which have been wrought by her needle, her 
pencil and her brush ; if you could see her fingers run over 
the piano ; if you could hear the brilliancy and lightness of 
her voice ; and, which is of still greater value, if you could 
know her charitable, elevated and delicate sentiments, and 
above all her modesty ; which is so great that no one suspects 
her grand qualities.” 

“Ah! truly,” said the duke indifferently, “is she such a 
very remarkable person as all that indicates ? ” 

“ I will swear it to you ! ” she responded with a warmth 
she had difficulty in moderating. 

“ I believe you, Fleurette, I believe you ! ” 

He seemed to reflect and, after a momentary silence, he 
cried : 

“ All the same, she is very ugly ! ” 

This was all Fleurette had been able to obtain. 

Such was the result of the first interview between Fer- 
nand d’ Olona and Jeanne d’Auray. 


FLEURETTE. 


279 


CHAPTER XX. 

The dukes visit had an object : he came to announce 
to Fleurette his approaching departure for Havana. He 
had charged with the preparations for his voyage young 
Urbain Remy, Fleurette’s protege, who had been appointed 
a mate on board the fine mail steamship, Christopher 
Colombus, belonging to the Saint Thomas line of steam 
packets. 

Urbain had eagerly seized upon this occasion for pro- 
ving his gratitude, all the more that the 5th of the month, 
the day fixed for the sailing of the vessel, was the day on 
which he himself was to commence his service, and he was 
delighted at making his first voyage under the .eyes of his 
protector. Urbain had already made one trip to Havre, 
and was going to make another on the next day, in order to 
6ee that everything on board was ready before the duke’s 
arrival. He had chosen the finest cabin and the best aired 
one, and had had it arranged in the most comfortable 
manner. 

“ Ah ! ” said Michellete, “ that is doubtless the reason 
why he did not come yesterday to purchase any violets.” 

“ Does he like violets ? ” asked Fleurette. 

“ Yes, indeed : he comes every day to get a bouquet of 
them for his mother. By the way, he is generally a long 
time selecting them.” 

“ Does he haggle over them ? ” inquired the duke. 

“Not exactly that,” answered Michelette, “but he is a 
long time making up his mind ; it frequently takes him a 
quarter of an hour.” 

“ It strikes me,” said the duke, shaking his head, “ that 
Urbain Remy must be in love with you, Michelette, or with 
Fleurette.” 

“ You believe so, monsieur le due ? ” responded Fleurette 
absent-mindedly ; “ it is possible, I have paid no attention to 
it — Michelette,” she added, as if she was giving an order 
concerning the shop, “ you must look into this.” 


280 


FLEURETTE. 


“Yes mademoiselle.” 

The duke re-entered his carriage, Michelette went out on 
foot to attend to some affair concerning the shop, and, a 
quarter of an hour later, Clotilde, who had promptly ex- 
pedited her business with M. Newton, returned and found 
Fleurette seated at her counter, her head resting in her hands, 
pale and plunged in such profound reflections that she had 
not heard her god-mother enter. The latter divined the 
truth, and, silently approaching the flower-girl, took her 
hand and said : 

“ You have such an unhappy air, my poor Fleurette, that 
your news must be very sad.” 

“ My god-mother ! ” exclaimed the other, as if she was 
waking from a bad dream. She attempted to smile and to 
joke about the unexpected meeting with the duke, but Clo- 
tilde was not to be deceived. 

“ Tell me the truth,” said she earnestly ; “ I was expect- 
ing this, I was sure of it — he has found me frightful ? ” 

“ No, no,” replied Fleurette quickly. “ It happens that 
the first sight has simply not been favorable ; but at the sec- 
ond all will be different.” 

Clotilde remained silent a moment, and then courageous- 
ly taking her resolution, she said coldly : 

“No, I will not attempt a second trial. What right have 
I to go begging for a love he no longer owes me, and to 
awaken, in making myself known, regrets which my silence 
will save him? After what you have told me of his cousin 
at Havana, who possesses all the qualities which make a 
union desirable, it would be too selfish to prevent his happi- 
ness because mine is henceforth impossible. I shall remain 
dead to him, who no longer needs me, and live for the only 
being to whom I am necessary, my poor brother, who awaits 
me and calls me. I will start as soon as possible,” said she 
in a firm tone, “for New Orleans.” 

Fleurette endeavored in vain to make her change her 
resolution ; in vain she insisted that Clotilde should see the 
duke d’Olona just once more ; Fleurette was convinced, it 
was her firm conviction, that if the duke could spend one 
day, one evening, even a single hour in Clotilde’s company 
he would find her so charming that he would very soon 
pardon her ugliness, or rather that he would no longer per- 


FLEURETTE. 


281 


oeive it. But all her prayers were useless. Clotilde declared 
energetically that she did not wish to see the duke again ; 
that she wished to quit France ; and that she was going, com- 
mencing from that very day, to occupy herself with the pre- 
parations for her departure. 

“ Do not disturb yourself about that, god-mother,” said 
Fleurette sadly, “ I will take charge of it.” 

“ Ah ! ” said Fleurette to herself the next morning while 
descending to her shop, “ was there ever such a fatality ! I 
had but one object, one desire; that of bringing them to- 
gether ; and, as if purposely, at the very moment when I 
hope to re-unite them one starts for Havana and the other 
for New Orleans.” 

While thus dreaming she raised her eyes and perceived 
near the counter Urbain Remy, the young sailor, who was 
apparently buying violets of Michelette. Pie was in truth 
holding in his hand a basket of flowers upside down, and the 
flowers were falling out of it, while he was watching Fleur- 
ette descend the stairs. 

IJrbain Remy was remarkably handsome. Youth in its 
flower shone on his face. His eyes, ordinarily full of ardor 
and intelligence, now only expressed a mute admiration, 
which had absorbed all his senses, and rendered him motion- 
less. He was simply a statue, a superb statue, to which a 
glance from Fleurette soon gave soul and life. He then be- 
came conscious of the basket he had overturned while gazing 
at the young girl, and of the flowers which strewed the floor 
of the shop. He hastened to pick them up, and while he was 
thus engaged Fleurette coolly regarded him and, shaking her 
head, said to herself : 

“ Decidedly, it is not Michelette whom he loves.” 

All at once an idea crossed her mind, and she went up to 
him radiant with smiles : 

“ You, monsieur Urbain ? What a pleasure ! ” 

Urbain could not believe his ears or his eyes, yet he cer- 
tainly heard the words, and the expression of pleasure which 
shone in the flower-girl’s eyes cbuld not be mistaken. 

“ Yes, mademoiselle,” he responded, with a confused air, 
“ I arrived from Havre yesterday, and return there to-morrow, 
and as I have a day to myself I have profited by it.” 

“ In what way ? ” asked Fleurette, 


282 


FLEURETTE . 


“By coming to buy some violets for my mother.” 

“ That is very good of you,” said Fleurette. “ But I have 
a favor to ask of you, monsieur.” 

“ Speak, speak ! ” cried the young man, almost jumping 
for joy, “ I am at your service. YVhere shall I go ? What must 
I do?” 

Fleurette motioned to him to sit down and to Michelette 
to go out. 

Urbain would not have changed situations with a cap- 
tain of a ship. He was alone with Fleurette, and she had in- 
vited him to take a seat beside her. 

“Monsieur Urbain,” said she, “I am very ignorant and 
you — are very wise. Are you acquainted with Havana?” 

“ Yes, mademoiselle ; it is the capital of Cuba, one of the 
great Antilles ; a very fine port, situated at the Gulf of Mex- 
ico.” 

“ Thank you,” said Fleurette, interrupting him, “ and 
New Orleans ; where is it situated ? ” 

“Much further on.” 

“ Then it is on the same side of the ocean ? ” cried she 
quickly, “ on the same route ? ” 

“Yes, mademoiselle.” 

Fleurette leaned towards him with such a warmth of 
gratitude that for a moment Urbain believed she was about 
to embrace him. However, she abstained, and^eontented 
herself with taking his hand, 

“ You are sure of this, monsieur? ” 

“ Very sure.” 

“ Explain to me how this voyage is made, and the course 
to pursue.” 

“ One first goes from Paris to Havre ; there one takes the 
steamship Christopher Columbus, of which I am one of the 
mates. One then touches at Southampton, where we have a 
regular trade with England, which furnishes us many pas- 
sengers. Then we go in a straight line and in one breath to 
Saint Thomas ; there our company’s vessels stop, they go no 
further.” 

“Well? Then what is to be done ? ” 

“ At Saint Thomas is the main line, or rather there are 
three : one for Demerara, British Guiana ; the second for 


FLEUR ETTE. 283 

Aspinwall, isthmus of Panama; and the third for New 
Orleans, by way of Havana.” 

“ That is the one I want — that is my line! ” cried Fleur- 
ette, “ I don’t care to know about the others. And then ? ” 

“ Then, the passengers, leaving our vessel, take another 
steamer which conducts them, according to their destination, 
some to Havana, and the rest to New Orleans ; which is sit- 
uated near the mouth of the Mississippi River, in the state 
of Lousiana, United States of America.” 

“ Very good, very good ! ” said Fleurette, arresting him 
in his geographical excursion, “ now tell me how long this 
voyage lasts.” 

Urbain, with mathematical exactitude and as if reading 
from a book, recited all in one breath : 

“ From Havre to Southampton, twelve hours ; South- 
ampton to Saint Thomas, fifteen days ; Saint Thomas to 
Havana, three days; Havana to New Orleans, five days; 
always excepting bad weather, accidents, shipwrecks, or lack 
of coal ! ” 

“ Nineteen days to be together ! ” calculated Fleurette to 
herself, “ without counting delays ; that is more time than I 
need. Now, monsieur Urbain,” she went on aloud, “here is 
the service I expect from you and your gratitude.” 

Urbain was all ears ; his heart beat violently : now he 
would not have changed places with a rear-admiral. 

“ Do you think,” continued Fleurette, “ that the vessel 
in which the duke d’Olona sails is a good ship ? ” 

“ Excellent ! ” 

“'Well ! I beg of you to retain in it a nice stateroom for 
mademoiselle Jeanne d’Auray and her maid : she is returning 
to her brother at New Orleans, he is the head of the house 
of Jean d’Auray and Company, merchants.” 

“ Yes, mademoiselle.” 

“ Don’t forget that at any price I must have two places, 
and I will add that you must not speak to anyone . of the 
commission I have charged you with. It is an affair,” said 
she with a gracious smile, and again giving him her hand, 
“in regard to which I wish to treat only with you.” 

Urbain would not now have changed with an admiral. 
He promised that he would go to Havre next day, and 
would return in two days with the engaged places. 


284 


FLEUR ETTE. 


“ No matter what the price is,” repeated Fleurette. 

“Yes, mademoiselle; rest easy.” 

Fleurette contented herself with telling her god-mother 
that her place and her waiting-maid’s, she intended taking 
one with her, would he retained on board of an excellent 
vessel, sailing on the 15th from Havre to Saint Thomas, and 
from there to New Orleans. There was no question in re- 
gard to passports and the necessary letters of recommenda- 
tion, with the care of which M. Newton, the American 
banker, charged himself. On the third day IJrbain returned 
triumphant. 

“ Well, my two places ? ” anxiously inquired Fleurette. 

“ Here they are, but not without difficulty — and a great 
deal better ones than I hoped for. An elegant stateroom, 
situated in the best part of the ship, and among charming 
companions, two English families composed of ladies, where- 
as on the other vessel they were a mixed set.” 

“ How, the other ? ” cried Fleurette turning pale, li have 
you not retained places on board your ship, the Christopher 
Columbus?” 

“ Please listen to me. I addressed myself to my chiefs, to 
my captain, who replied to me : ‘ Impossible, we are encum- 
bered with passengers ; not a single place vacant for this trip : 
And as you had said to me : c I must have two places at any 
price I hastened to retain them on the very next vessel 
sailing.” 

Fleurette uttered a cry of despair. 

“ I was unable to inform you of the situation or to ask 
your advice,” continued Urbain, in a satisfied manner, 
and in one day more every place would liave been taken. 
So I have provisionally retained two places, with permission 
to give them up if they do not suit : as there will be no lack 
of applicants for them.” 

“ And this is the way you execute my orders ! ” said 
Fleurette, pale with anger. 

Poor IJrbain, who thought he had acted for the best, felt 
all his courage abandon him. He divined that he had made 
a mistake, what it was he did not yet understand, but he did 
know that it was one of those great faults which decide the 
reputations of captains and the destinies of empires. 

Mademoiselle,” cried he, all in a tremble, “ pardon me ; 


FLEURETTE. 285 

you said that two places were necessary at any price ; I be- 
lieved I had done right.” 

“ You have done all wrong ; you easily enough found a 
place on the first ship sailing for M. le due d’Olona, your 
protector.” 

“ But since then,” cried Urbain in despair, how many 
others have taken passage ! Just look at the list they have 
sent me,” 

Fleurette almost tore it from his hands. In truth every 
place, good or bad, was retained and paid for in advance by 
Americans, English and French. Many merchants and manu- 
facturer’s wives had retained the best cabins, after the duke 
d’Olona had engaged his. Fleurette studied the list atten- 
tively. The only names she recognized on it, besides the 
duke’s, were those of Mrs. Nicholson and her husband, the 
latter a rich merchant from the United States. 

Mrs. Nicholson, a rich and pretty American, as lovely and 
coquettish as a Frenchwoman, had spent six months in Paris 
with her husband, he engaged in business, and she in the 
pursuit of pleasure. 

One could swear that at least one of the two had suc- 
ceeded in attaining her purpose. This lady was one of 
Fleurette’s customers and it was undoubtedly she who was 
quitting Paris to return to America, for she was to give a 
farewell ball in a few days at her hotel in the rue N'euve-des- 
Mathurins , for which Fleurette was to furnish the flowers 
and plants. 

Without having determined upon any regular plan Fleur- 
ette comprehended that here was her only chance. What 
did she wish ? she did not know, herself, but she was a girl 
to profit by every occasion, and even to create them when 
necessary. 

She left poor Urbain all abashed and tete d tete with 
Michelette, whom she had recalled. She then took a shawl 
and hat, threw herself into a public coup6, and was driven 
to Mrs. Nicholson’s. She pretended to have come to consult 
with the latter in regard to the decorations for the ball. 


286 


FLEURETTE. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

Fleukette announced herself at Mrs. Nicholson’s. She 
found the mistress of the house in the gallery where the 
dancing was to take place and very busy at the moment. 
She was disputing with her husband, a large, sandy colored 
American, with a short and square figure ; as slow, grave 
and serious as his wife was active, volatile and impetuous. 

“ Yes, sir,” she was saying, “this departure will make 
me die of chagrin.” 

“You will not die,” gravely said the husband, “and we 
will depart on the 15th. ; our places are engaged and paid 
for.” 

“ And the court ball which takes place on that day, sir, 
the ball, the spectacle and the Fontainbleau fetes at which 
you swore to let me be present ! ” 

“Yes, if you were invited, but you were not.” 

“ I may be yet.” 

“The invitations are sent a month in advance, and 
everyone, French or foreigner, who is to get one has already 
received it, and we have received none.” 

“ Because you do not know how to ask for anything, or 
rather because you have taken pains not to ask — I am sure 
of it, I have proof of it ! ” 

The husband shrugged his shoulders without answering. 

“ I shall revenge myself, sir, I shall revenge myself ! 
Ah ! ” said she as, turning round, she perceived Fleurette 
who had entered the gallery and had for some minutes 
listened at a distance but without losing a word. “ Ah ! it 
is you, mademoiselle Fleurette. I would have been very 
glad to give you my ideas and to receive yours in return in 
regard to distributing the flowers in this gallery, on the 
stairway, and in the other departments, but my nerves are 
in a frightful state this morning. 

Her husband approached her with a shade of uneasiness 
in his manner and wished to take her hand, which she 


FLEURETTE . 


287 

quickly drew back, and, forgetting Fleurette’s presence, she 
cried out : 

“ Yes, sir, as I have told you ; you can carry me away, 
but not alive. To come to Paris to see what is beautiful 
and elegant and to leave without having seen a court fete 
is absurd, odious and tyrannical.” 

The scene commencing thus and continued in the same 
strain, in a few moments reached the denouement which 
might have been foreseen ; a nervous attack. Mrs. Nichol- 
son was about to fall on a sofa when Fleurette caught her 
in her arms. Mr. Nicholson, much frightened, had hastened 
as fast as his short legs would let him to the other end of 
the gallery to call for assistance ; for it seemed to him a 
terrible crisis. While he was gone Fleurette put her lips to 
the pretty ear of the poor invalid, and whispered to her : 

“ Re-assure yourself, madame ; you shall have an invita- 
tion.” 

Mrs. Nicholson instantly arose, and regarded Fleurette 
with an air of uncertainty, admiration and gratitude. 

“ You shall be invited to the ball, I promise you. As to 
going there that is your affair.” 

“ I will go ! ” cried Mrs. Nicholson, squeezing the other’s 
hands with all the energy of a woman who returns to life. 

Just then Mr. Nicholson, arrived at the other end of the 
gallery, followed by two or three waiting-women, whose as- 
sistance was now unnecessary. 

“ Madame is not in a condition to spjeak of business just 
now,” said Fleurette, with a caressing air, “ I will return 
day after to-morrow, and I hope-I shall find her better.” 

She quickly descended the stairs, threw herself once 
more into her coupe, and had herself driven to the d’Olona 
mansion. It was time, for half past six had struck, and the 
duke was about going out. 

“You, my Fleurette !” cried he joyfully; “you visit 
me ! Ah ! how pretty you are,” said he while trying to take 
her shawl and hat, while she positively declined letting him 

do. 

“ And you, monsieur le due, how fine you are ! ” cried 
she, contemplating the ribbons and diamond stars with 
which his breast was covered. 

“Yes : I am going to dine at court.” 


288 


FLEURETTE. 


“ Ah ! the very thing ; that just suits me. I have a 
favor to ask of you.” 

“ Granted in advance, on condition that you embrace 
me.” 

“ Afterwards,” said Fleurette. 

“ Before ! ” said the duke. 

“ Bah ! ” gaily replied the young girl, “ one does not 
bargain with friends. Before and after ! and to commence — ”. 
She held up her fresh and rosy cheek to Fernand, and he 
ardently applied one of the best kisses that friendship ever 
gave. 

•‘Now, speak ! ” 

“ Monsieur le due, I want an invitation for the 15th. of 
this month to a fete which is to be given at the palace of 
Fontainbleau.” 

“ For yourself, Fleurette ? ” asked he uneasily. 

“ No ; for Nicholson and his wife, M. Nicholson is a rich 
citizen of the United States who came to admire the splen- 
dors of France, and does not wish to leave without having 
seen the fetes and the ladies of the court ; his wife must be 
able to relate in America the marvels of Fontainbleau.” 

“You have never before spoken to me of the Nichol- 
sons.” 

“ That is true.” 

“ You scarcly know them.” 

- \“ True again.” 

“ But all the world is not invited to court ; it is a rare 
favor.” 

“ Which would not be refused to monsieur le due d’Olona. 
You will speak to the first chamberlain — the grand chamber- ! 
lain, to the grand equerry, in short, to everyone. Finally,” $ 
cried she with the anger of a child, and as if reserving this > 
argument to the last, “ I wish it, I wish it ! — or we shall 
quarrel forever ! ” And she ran away. 

Two days later she returned to Mrs. Nicholson, who J 
was still disputing with her husband. • 

“Has this lasted since day before yesterday?” ingen- 
urously asked Fleurette. 

“ Oh! no, it has just now been resumed cried Mrs. Nich- , 
olson, radiant and squeezing Fleurette’s hand. “ I have 
my invitation, and here it is. And do you believe that 




ELEURETTE. 


289 


monsieur Nicholson, whose promise I have, now hesitates, 
under the pretext that the ball will take place on the 15th.” 

“ The day we are to sail ” cried the husband. 

“Well ! we shall not go,” said the wife. 

“ But our places ! engaged on board the Christopher 
Columbus ! — ” 

“ Will be lost,” gaily answered Mrs. Nicholson, “ it can 
be charged to ball expenses, to general expenses.” 

“ Lost ! ” repeated the merchant with secret wrath, 
“ lost ! ” 

“ They, shall not be lost,” said Fleurette joyfully. “ I 
will take them for a lady of my acquaintance. Give them 
to me.” 

“ Is it possible ! ” cried Mr. Nicholson, “ you, mademois- 
elle Fleurette ? ” 

“Give them to me, then ! ” she said impatiently. 

“ But,” said the merchant, still retaining the receipt in 
his own hands, “they say at Havre that all the places are 
taken some time ahead, and when can we now leave ? ” 

“ By the following steamer ; here are places on it, which 
J will give you in exchange for yours.” 

“ Ah ! what a service ! ” cried Mr. Nicholson, who in his 
gratitude would have just then bought out Fleurette’s en- 
tire shop. Then, looking at Clotilde’s ticket, which Fleu- 
rette had handed him, he added shaking his head : “ The 
steamer does not leave till the 1st of next month, it is a 
very long time ! ” 

“ It is too short ! ” said his wife with a sigh. 

Fleurette’s hopes were fulfilled. She had in her possess- 
ion the two tickets which were of such immense value to 
her, they were her last remaining hope for the execution of 
of her generous project. 

The last days before a departure quickly pass away. The 
duke left Paris on the 12th. He was, to his great regret, 
obliged to pass over to England on business affairs of M. de 
Castle-Mayor, his uncle, who had confided them to him. 
He would not, therefore, embark at Havre, but at South 
amj^ton, where the steamer was to stop on the second day 

“In three months,” said he to Fleurette, embracing her 
“I will return.” 

“ With your wife,” said she, weeping. 

19 


X 


290 


FLEUR ETTA. 


“No, I will keep my word, I will engage myself to no 
one.” 

“ Without my advice ? ” cried she hastily. 

“ I swear it ! ” 

“ And I count upon your oath.” 

For a long time she followed him with her eyes, sorrow- 
ing over the three days that this sudden departure deprived 
her of ; but content, on the other hand, at being able to 
accompany her god-mother to Havre without his seeing 
her. 

All that could be foreseen by the most intelligent and 
tenderest devotion had been done by her in order that her 
god-mother might make the voyage under the best and most 
comfortable conditions. She had looked after the arrange- 
ment of all the trunks, the purchasing and packing of bon- 
nets, dresses and toilet articles. She was like a mother oc- 
cupying herself with a daughter. She had found, as a wait- 
ing-maid and companion for Clotilde, a women of forty-five 
years, of good family and well educated ; reduced by poverty, 
she was only too glad to find an honorable living with 
mademoiselle d’Auray. In addition, Fleurette had recom- 
mended M. Urbain to take the greatest care of mademoiselle 
Jeanne during the whole time she might be on board the 
Christopher Columbus, to place himself at her orders, to serve 
her, to defend her, and, she added with energy, “ to let him- 
self be killed for her if it was necessary.” 

“ I will act as if it were you, mademoiselle,” the young 
sailor had replied, with such an accent of truth and such a 
desire of keeping his word, that Fleurette, who was laugh- 
ing, stopped herself, much moved, and said : 

“ Don’t get yourself killed, nevertheless, and return,” she 
added, smiling, “ if it is only to purchase my violets.” 

Arrived at Havre, and ready to embark and about to 
leave, perhaps forever, her native land and Fleurette, her 
sister and friend, Clotilde felt the stoical firmness in which 
until now she had encased herself commence to give way; 
her courage forsook her ; she burst into tears ; and threw 
herself into the arms of Fleurette, who was as moved as her- 
self, but who was also sustained by hope. 

“ Courage, my dear, good god-mother,” said she,“ cour- 
age ! We will see each otner again soon.” 


FLEURETTE . 


291 


“Never !” replied Clotilde, sobbing. 

“You will return to France with your brother; if not, 
I will sell all I possess and go and find you.” 

“ I forbid you to.” 

“ Forbid me, also, to hear you ! ” cried Fleurette embra- 
cing her. 

But the honr for sailing had arrived, the crew were at 
their posts, and the passengers were called on board. 

Fleurette tore her self from Clotilde’s arms, and ran along 
the dock in order to able to see her still a little longer. 

From there she waved her handkerchief and Clotilde, at 
the stern of the vessel, responded in the same manner as 
long as she could distinguish her disconsolate god-child. 
But that was soon impossible: she saw, in the distance, the 
tower of Francis, the First, little by little become gray, 
grow smaller, and finally disappear. The vessel had reach- 
ed the open sea. 


m 


FLEURETTE. 


PART III. 


CHAPTER I. 

Clotilde retired to her stateroom where she remained for 
some hours entirely absorbed in her grief and indifferent to 
what was going on around her, she scarcely heard the cries 
of the sailors, the noise of the machinery, or the regular and 
monotonous roaring of the rapidly revolving wheels which 
were carrying her far away. 

Of the passengers on the “ Christopher Columbus ” ( there 
were only thirty in all) the first class ones ate at the Cap- 
tain’s table, and the rest at the second table. Meal time 
sounded andUrbain, the mate, discreetly rapped at Clotilde’s 
door and informed her that M. Desrambures, the captain, 
his officers and the passengers were waiting dinner for her. 
So she went to the dining saloon and was welcomed by the 
captain in the most respectful manner. 

Clotilde, although her remarkable beauty was gone, was 
always sure of attracting attention by her elegant and dis- 
tinguished manners. The captain begged her to take the 
seat at his right ; and he conversed with her during the en- 
tire dinner, at first on subjects relative to the voyage they 
were commencing, but after awhile the circle of conversation 
became enlarged. Clotilde, pleased to converse with a well 
instructed and agreeable man and thus forget, for a time, - 
her sad thoughts, gave herself up to the present with pleas- 
ure. The captain, surprised at the extent of her knowledge 
and enchanted with her conversation, at once serious and 
gracious, was still more charmed with her simplicity and 
modesty. Far from parading what she knew she seemed, 
like a woman, to excuse herself and ask pardon for it. 

After dinner they passed into the captain’s salon. Some 
of the ladies, wives of merchants or manufacturers who 


FLEUR ETTE 


293 


were travelling to the United Slates, seated themselves on 
the sofas placed in all parts of the salon . Conversation be- 
came general, which means that it was frivolous and tire- 
some. One of the ladies on looking around suddenly cried 
out : 

“ Ah ! a piano ! ” 

“ Yes,” said the captain, “ a very fine Pleyel piano. Will 
you try it, ladies, and tell me if it is in tune, for I fear that 
that is the one thing it lacks, I forgot to assure myself of it 
before our departure.” 

As none of the others seemed inclined to try it Clotilde 
opened the piano, and running her fingers over the keys, 
drew forth some of the most brilliant and some of the falsest 
chords it was possible to imagine. The listeners, crying 
out, covered their ears, while Clotilde affirmed that the piano 
was an excellent one. 

“ But impossible to play upon,” said the captain sadly. 

“ What a nuisance ! ” murmured a little blonde, the wife 
of a cotton merchant. “ Mademoiselle might have assisted 
us to a dance or a waltz this eveniug.” 

“ Yes,” cried the other ladies, “ it is such a great distrac- 
tion in a passage of fifteen or sixteen days.” 

“ If that is all, ladies ! ” answered Clotilde, smiling, “ I see 
a piano key there, and in an hour from now I will have 
tuned the piano.” 

A unanimous cry of surprise, admiration and thanks 
arose in the salon. 

“ On condition that you leave me alone while I am doing 
it,” it continued Clotilde, “ for there is nothing in the world 
so wearisome as hearing a piano tuned.” 

They hastened to accede to her request. The captain 
had the affairs of the ship to occupy himself with, and as 
for the passengers, if the truth must be told, they had already 
commenced to feel the first terrible symptoms of sea sick- 
ness, and each hastened to his own stateroom. 

Clotilde, a daughter of Brittany, brought up on the shore 
of the ocean and accustomed from infancy to taking long 
trips on the sea in launches and even in smaller boats, the 
rolling of wffiich was much greater than that of this heavy 
steam-ship, Clotilde found herself almost the only one left. 
She tranquilly finished her wearisome and monotonous 


294 


FLEURETTE. 


task and, the piano tuned, she retired to her stateroom, which, 
through the care of Urbain, or rather by Fleurette’s orders, 
had been arranged like a fashionable lady’s boudoir. She 
had been asleep for some time when the vessel stopped. 
Clotlde, awakened suddenly, asked madame Brevanne, her 
maid who slept near her, what was the matter. 

“Don’t disturb yourself, mademoiselle; M. Urbain, the 
young officer, warned me that at about midnight we would 
stop a short while at Southampton to take some passengers 
aboard, and said that after that we would not stop again 
until we reached Saint Thomas.” 

In fact many passengers, among whom was one of our 
acquaintance, were at that moment coming on board. Ur- 
bain, hat in hand, stood at the gangway in order to receive 
M. le due d’Olona and conduct him to his stateroom. 

Early the next morning the duke, who was one of the 
principal owners of the steam-ship company, was promenad- 
ing the deck with Captain Desrambures conversing with him 
of the company’s affairs, which, owing to the quantity of 
freight and number of passengers they were in the habit of 
carrying, were just then very prosperous. 

Apropos of passengers the duke questioned him in re- 
gard to those now on board, and the captain, still charmed 
with his remembrances of the previous evening, spoke of a 
young lady who was not pretty but who was the most ami- 
able person he had ever met. 

“ Who is she ? ” asked the duke with curiosity. 

“Look, monsieur le due, there she is coming out of her 
stateroom with her maid.” 

The duke raised his eyes and instantly recognized Jeanne 
d’Auray : he had only seen her once, it is true, in Fleurette’s 
shop, but her figure, her bearing, and her features were too 
remarkable to be easily forgotten. As to Clotilde, she so 
little expected such an encounter that in her trouble and 
surprise all her presence of mind deserted her, a circum- 
stance which Fleurette had not foreseen. The blood rushed 
to her head, then back to her heart ; she could no longer see 
anything distinctly, everything turned around, her knees 
trembled and she fell unconscious into madame Brevanne’s 
arms. The duke and the captain ran to her aid. The 
former placed to her nose a vinaigrette, which Fleurette had 


FLEUR ETTE. 


295 


given him at their last meeting, as a souvenir of her, little 
thinking that her god-mother would be the first person to 
use it. 

Little by little Clotilde recovered consciousness, and the 
captain smilingly said to her : 

“ Yesterday, madame, you were too rash ; you pretended 
<hat sea-sickness would not know how to overtake you. 
You see, it has taken its revenge.” 

Clotilde, now entirely recovered, had regained her sang- 
froid. Addressing to the duke and the captain a grateful 
and giacious smile, she thanked them for their kindness and 
asked to be allowed to promenade alone in the air for a 
while, saying that was all she needed to completely restore 
her. So she walked away, not without agitation, and re- 
peating to herself : 

u W nat a rencounter! What an unheard of chance! 
When I write this to Fleurette she will scarcely be able to 
believe it ; and I, myself, I wonder if I am really awake — 
yes, it is indeed he ! — near me, with me — far from the world, 
and in the middle of the ocean ! ” 

And she all at once began to reflect that a meeting so 
miraculous could not be solely the reuslt of chance, but 
must have been designed by Providence. 

“ Yes,’ said she, doubly exalted by religion and love, 
“ if God has, as by a miracle, thus brought us together it is 
because He does not wish us separated, it is because He has 
blessed us as fiances , and because He wishes that some day 
our destinies shall be forever united.” 

She then began to silently pray and thank God ; and, 
fortified by prayer, she stood up full of joy and courage. 

During the morning the duke cast a rapid glance over 
the ladies forming the society of the Christopher Columbus, 
a society wnich little suited his aristocratic tastes ; and as 
the captain, confirming Fleurette’s eulogies, had continued 
his praises of mademoiselle Jeanne d’Auray, sister of the 
rich merchant of the same name, the duke approached her 
as soon as he saw her re-appear. He inquired of her with 
interest concerning the latest news from Paris, and there- 
upon there ensued one of those conversations usual to Pari- 
sian salons , conversations light, lively and superficial, in 
which one speaks of everything and finds, the conversation 


296 


eleurette. 


over, one has said nothing. Clotilde, to the great astonish- 
ment of the listening captain, was as frivolous as Fernand, 
though all the while seeming to say by her bright smile : 
“ I am capable of better than this.” But she wished to be 
amiable, and forced herself to try and become so, and ended 
by really being so. The duke found her conversation gay, 
spirituel and, above all, unpretentious. 

“ Parbleu ! ” said he to himself, “ I am fortunate to find 
on board of this vessel, and when the passage is to last 
twenty days, some one with whom I can converse. I ac- 
knowledge that the young lady is perhaps a trifle superficial 
and slightly trivial, but she is amusing, and we have em- 
ployed an entire hour, which passed away very quickly, in 
talking nothings.” 

We already know that the duke’s great misfortune, one 
which almost always accompanies large fortunes, was to be- 
come easily wearied. He had acknowledged it to Fleurette ; 
he became frightfully so when he had no one to love or to 
pay court to. And he now found himself in that position. 

After-dinner he was in the captain’s salon , Clotilde had 
gone to her stateroom to get some work she was engaged 
upon, and the duke did not know what had become of her. 
None of the ladies present pleased him, they none of them 
possessed any real beauty. There were a few fantastic 
countenances and some irregularly pretty faces which had 
neither the gaie'ty, spirit, nor expression of Fleurette’s, and 
the evening commenced for the duke under the most sombre 
auspices. He perceived a chess-board on the captain’s table. 

“ Do you play chess, captain ? ” 

“No, I am just commencing to learn, because they pre- 
tend that it is an admirable pastime for one on board ship, 
and one which never fails you. I only know the moves, 
as yet.” 

The duke shuddered. 

“ But I have heard it said, monsieur le due, that you are 
a fine player, and I can learn from seeing you play.” 

“ That will be difficult,” replied the duke, smiling and 
looking around, “ for I do not see any one here to make up 
a game with.” 

Clotilde just then entered, her embroidery in her hand, 
She heard these last words, and responded' graciously : 


'FLEURETTE. 297 

“If I can be of any service, monsieur le due, I am here 
and ready to accept the dangerous honor.” 

“ You, mademoiselle? ” cried the duke and captain to- 
gether, and both astonished. 

“ On condition,” she replied, seating herself at the table, 
“ that monsieur le due will be generous and spare his 
adversary.” 

Piquet, chess and backgammon were the favorite games 
in the marquise de Keroualle’s household. The old Breton 
gentlemen of her neighborhood devoted themselves, in her 
salon , to the most earnest combats, of which Clotilde had 
been at first simply a witness. But, later on, and in order 
to be able to always find in her at need a partner to make 
up their games, her cousin, madame de Keroualle, and her 
friends, the old amateurs, had taught her all these games, 
which were suitable neither to her tastes nor her age. It 
was thus that she had become a skilfull player, almost in 
spite x>f herself and in the interest of her cousin. 

The duke, wishing to respond to the appeal made to his 
generosity, played en gentilhomme, that is to say with negli- 
gence and without paying careful attention to his game. 
So that, to the captain’s great astonishment and still more 
to his own, he soon lost this first game. He overwhelmed 
his adversary with compliments and praises and demanded 
his revenge, which she graciously hastened to accord him. 
This time he attended to his game. The victory was dearly 
disputed, but he again lost. It is said that the best friends 
quarrel at chess, which can be easily understood. In a game 
where nothing is left to chance and everything depends on 
the skill of the player to lose must necessarily wound one’s 
self-esteem. But in the first place, Fernand and Clotilde 
were nqt yet friends ; and in the second, Fernand, although 
somewhat spoiled by the flatterers who always surround the 
fortunate, really possessed an excellent character, which, 
unluckily, had not sufficient opportunity to show itself. 

He now exhibited neither spite nor anger but eagerly 
solicited, according to his own expression, the honor of a 
third defeat. Clotilde did not commit the imprudence of 
letting him win ; the duke would have easily seen through 
it and the triumph would have been, for him, only one hu- 
miliation the more. She played conscientiously and de- 


298 


FLEURETTE. 


fended herself valiantly, hut Fernand, increasing his care- 
fulness, attention and cleverness of combinations, gained 
ground step by step and, finally, after a desperate resistance 
on the enemy’s part, he uttered the cry of victory : “ Mate ! ” 

He was happy and delighted, the joy of a child shone in his . 
eyes. Of his own accord he praised the talent and glorious 
defence of his adversary, a defence which enhanced still 
more the brilliancy of his triumph. The truth is that they 
were equally good players, which is the best condition for 
playing with interest, with pleasure, and for a long time. 

Fernand seized upon every occasion for renewing the 
contest, occasions always eagerly accepted ; and the dukd^-^ 
who at first saw in Clotilde only a partner for chess, soon 
found out that there was before him, on the other side of 
the, chess-board, not only an able adversary, but an amiable 
woman and one of heart and spirit. They frequently 
stopped in the intervals of the game to converse, and often 
Fernand would forget the revenge asked for, in order to 
give himself entirely up to the conversation thus commenced. 

On the third evening they w'ere seated opposite each 
other in the captain’s salon ; a chess-board was between 
them, but they not playing. Fernand had been led, with- 
out wishing it, to a subject of conversation w r hich greatly 
interested him ; Clotilde de Keroualle. Mademoiselle 
Jeanne d’Auray had intimately known her, and he recalled 
what Fleurette had related to him of her god-mother’s great - 
esteem for this young lady, and he felt that her eulogies were 
not at all exaggerated. 

“ She was my companion in childhood,” smilingly said 
Jeanne d’Auray, upon being questioned by the duke ; “ we 
were brought up together in Brittany ; and I have been told 
monsieur le due, that you were to have married her.” 

“ That is true,” said the duke sadly. 

“And,” asked Jeanne hesitatingly, “you loved her very 
much ? ” 

“ Yes, I adored her beauty, which was wonderful. As 
to her character and sentiments I was ignorant of them, I 
did not even know whether she loved me or not ; and, mad- 
emoiselle, in regard to that you, who were her friend, would 
probably know more than myself.” 


x 


FLUE RE TTE. 


299 


“ Yes.” said Jeanne, hesitating and involuntarily lowering 
her eyes, “ she loved you very much.” 

“ Are you certain of it.” 

“You may believe me,” said she with emotion. Why 
should you doubt it? ” 

“ While I was paying court to her as her intended,” he 
replied, “I was hardly allowed to speak to her. I scarcely 
ever heard the sound of her voice ; which, by the way, if I 
do not deceive myself yours somewhat resembles.” 

“ Chances, or error,” said Clotilde, trying to smile. 

“ Indeed,” continued the duke, “ do you not find a re- 
semblance between your voice and hers ? ” 

“ None, whatever,” said Clotilde coldly. 

“ Of course you ought to know it better than I,” the 
duke went on, without attaching further importance to the 
subject; “ but what I was going to ask you, her childhood’s 
friend, you who judge with so much discernment and justice, 
was to tell me what you thought of my poor fiancee .” 

Clotilde felt an inexpressible embarrassment, which was 
all the greater that the duke seemed to await her answer with 
lively interest. 

Happily at this moment one of the lady passengers ap- 
proached them, and seeing that they were not playing chess 
she addressed Clotilde : 

“ As you are not playing I come in the name of all the 
ladies to claim from mademoiselle the fulfillment of her pro- 
mise of day before yesterday. We are very curious to know 
whether the piano she tuned is in a condition for playing 
contre-dances and polkas.” 

“ Willingly, ladies,” said Clotilde, rising and going towards 
the piano, which just then Fernand would have gladly sent 
to the bottom of the sea, though an instant later he was dis- 
tracted from his bad humor by Clotilde’s brilliant playing 
and could not refrain from listening to her nor from joining 
in the applause of the entire assembly. We have said before 
that under Clotilde’s fingers the piano became an entire or- 
chestra : She played all the evening without interruption 
and without rest to the great satisfaction of the ladies and 
their cavaliers, who did not know which to admire most, 
her talent or her complaisance. 


300 


ELEURETTE. 


Fernand next day seized upon a moment when she saw 
alone on deck and approached her. 

“Do you wish to play chess ? ” said she politely. 

He cared very little about chess at that moment, and was 
very anxious to resume yesterday’s conversation. 

“Yesterday, mademoiselle,” he said, “I asked you some- 
thing, two things in fact, which I would very much like you 
to answer : first, your opinion of Clo tilde de Keroualle ; and 
next, her opinion of me.” 

“ Monsieur,” she replied, “ your questions are very em- 
barrassing (he could in reality see that she was very mnch 
embarrassed), I was too intimately acquainted with Clotilde 
not to be on this question, a partial judge, and my opinion 
would not be the disinterested one you expect. As to what 
Clotilde thought of you, monsieur le due, that was a secret.” 

“ Which it is no longer necessary to conceal,” quickly 
said the duke, “ since alas ! she is no more. So you can tell 
me all, nothing is easier.” 

“ Hot for me,” said she, “ I would not dare reveal to 
you, whom I scarcely know as yet, remembrances so cruel 
and so recent.” 

She exhibited, while speaking, so much feeling and emo- 
tion that the duke fearing having been indiscreet, did not 
insist. 

“You are right,” said he, “I must merit such a confi- 
dence and prove that I am worthy of it before expecting to 
receive it.” 

From that hour the duke redoubled his assiduities and at- 
tentions to Clotilde. There was no merit in this, for he was 
always finding fresh charms in her conversation, such as 
Fleurette, with all her gentleness, was unable to offer him. 
Clotilde frequently led the duke to serious subjects, where 
she knew he was capable of following her : subjects which 
furnish intelligent and educated minds with endless and in- 
exhaustible sources of conversation, and which coming from 
her afforded him a particular interest. 

Clotilde, from the day when the duke d’Olona had asked 
her hand of madame de Keroualle, had wished not to appear 
a stranger to the new and illustrious family into which she 
was about to enter. So she had studied the history of the 
South American revolutions, t be changes which had occured 


P'LEURETTE. 


301 


among them, and the new republic erected upon the debris 
of the former immense Spanish possessions. She spoke with 
warmth to Fernand of wars for independence in which his 
father had played such a grand part; of the events which 
had .brought him to power ; and of the important acts which 
during his five years as president had signalized his govern- 
ment and left to his son such a glorious heritage. At hear- 
ing a stranger thus recall the remembrances of the paternal 
glory Fernand thrilled with a sentiment of joy and filial 
pride such as no one had ever before made him experience. 

Clo tilde did not say that the son of such a father ought 
not to pass his days in trivial occupations ; but such noble 
language, which he was not accustomed to hear, was like a 
mute reproach for the past and an easy precept for the fu- 
ture. And it was a woman who thus spoke to him, a young 
woman, whose interesting conversation held him as if en- 
tranced and whose words still resounded in his ears and 
heart long after she had ceased speaking. 

One evening in the captain’s salon he was still dreaming 
of a conversation of the above description which he had had 
that morning with Clo tilde when she came in and seated her- 
self at the piano with her back turned towards Fernand, who 
had not seen or heard her enter. This time she did not 
play dance music, but after a martial prelude she commenced 
a bravura which at once made apparent the brilliancy and 
wonderful extent of her voice. All listened in silence ; but 
when she had finished bravos resounded on every side along 
with cries of “ Encore , encore ! ” 

Clotilde, unlike most possessors of great talent, (fid not 
need to be begged. This time she sang an air of Auber’s 
la JBrise , from his Opera of Haydee , with the accompani- 
ment, on the open sea, of nature’s waves and winds : her 
success was immense, and of her own accord, without any- 
one having to ask her, she began to sing the romance of 
Saule in Othello . Fernand could not see her face but it 
seemed to him that there were tears in her voice. This 
voice, so beautiful, expressive and pure, plunged him into 
indescribable ecstasies. The obscurity which commenced to 
creep over the salon added still another charm to his dream. 
He seemed to see before him in the shadow an angel, and 
this angel appeared, as did also her song, to descend from 


802 


FLEURETTE. 


heaven. It was with pain that he saw the lights arrive, for 
they dissipated his illusions. 

On the next and following days Clotilde was more than 
once asked to take her seat at the piano. She was complai- 
sance itself and the evenings on board became charming. 
Everyone seemed to love mademoiselle d’Auray. The men 
because she was good, modest, without pretention, and 
never thrust her merits forward ; the women because they 
were not afraid of her and her lack of beauty made them 
pardon all her talents. The frankness, even, or rather the 
kind of coquetry with which Clotilde herself was the first 
to allude to her ugliness gave each the desire of contradict- 
ing her. 

“ It is not so bad ! ” repeated some. 

u It is the most agreeable and pleasing ugliness that I 
ever saw,” said others. 

“ And I find it actually becoming,” cried the rest. 

The truth is that one becomes accustomed to everything, 
to ugliness as well as to beauty. The husband of the most 
beautiful woman in the world ends by no longer seeing that 
she is beautiful ; and the young girl who is most deformed 
by nature, never appears so to the father, and mother and 
sister who see her every day. 

As to Fernand, at the end of a dozen days the features 
which had at first so shocked him were now no longer re- 
marked by him. He did not think her beautiful but he 
he would have been astonished at any one else for 
thinking her ugly. He saw her through the eyes of a 
friend, whose kindly sight diminished her defects and mag- 
nified her good qualities. All that he cared to know of her 
was that mentally she was charming, and physically her 
bearing was distinguished, her eyes magnificent, her smile 
expressive, her hand delicious, and the companion ladder 
had revealed to him, almost in spite of himself, that she 
possessed an admirable foot and ankle. As to loving her 
for love’s sake he simply did not think of it, and such an 
idea never would have entered his head. But he experi- 
enced, by his own acknowledgement, a great charm in con- 
versing with her and so frankly sought to enjoy it on all 
occasions that his assiduities never awakened in any one’s 
mind any malevolent reflections. 


FLEUR ETTE . 


303 


The evening previous to arriving at Saint Thomas he 
was seated near her on deck, and was speaking to her of 
France, which he had left and of Havana, where he was ex- 
pected. 

“ I understand the motive of your voyage,” said she. 
“ The United States do not conceal their ambitious views 
in regard to the remaining Spanish possessions; Walker 
and his fellow adventurers have already attempted to seize 
them and it is very natural that you, one of the richest pro- 
prietors of the island, should hasten to defend it at the mo- 
ment of danger. — Your presence, name and example will 
call the inhabitants to arms and they will choose you for 
leader. That will be grand, and worthy of your father’s 
son ! ” 

While she was speaking thus Fernand lowered his eyes 
and remained outwardly silent, but he was saying to him- 
self : 

“Yes, that is what I ought to be doing, what there is 
perhaps time enough to do yet.” 

He then acknowledged, almost blushing as he did so, 
that he only came with the design of improving the cultiva- 
tion of the immense domains he possessed in common with 
his paternal uncle, M. de Castle-Mayor, and, at the same 
time, to arrange a marriage, which was as yet only a pro- 
ject, with his cousin, Giuseppa, who, it was said, was re- 
markably beautiful. 

“ Ah ! ” said Clotilde trembling, “ is she more beautiful 
than mademoiselle de Keroualle was ? ” 

“ I do not know, I have never seen her.” 

There was silence between them for a moment. The 
duke was the first to break it. 

“ Since we are speaking of Clotilde,” said he, “ do you 
recall the conversation we had some fifteen days ago in 
which you promised to tell me, when you should know me 
better, what my intended thought of me ? You remember 
that you promised ? ” 

' “I did.” 

“Well, speak ! what did she reproach me with? ” 

“ That,” said Clotilde with emotion, “ perhaps you at- 
tached too great a value to exterior qualities. When age 
had come, when time had worn away her beauty, she feared, 


304 


ELEURETTE. 


she who had sworn to love you always, to see your love dis- 
appear.” 

“ She was wrong. I am not like that. I believe so at 
least, and I leave it to you ; is your opinion the same as 
her’s?” 

“ Oh ! I ? ” said Clotilde, “ that is very different I have 
reasons for defending you before and against all. I even 
have proofs which speak in your favor.” 

“ What are they ? ” 

“ The attentions with which you have deigned to honor 
me show that you do not care so very much for beauty.” 

“ Ah ! I don’t accept that as a proof,” cried he quickly, 
“ and I in my turn shall defend you against yourself. Who- 
ever pleases is good looking, and you please everyone ! ” 

“ Gallantry compels you to speak thus,” said she smil- 
ing. 

“ No,” he continued with warmth,” I say things as I 
see them, as I feel them.” 

“ Then they are illusions, for which I am much obliged 
to you.” 

“ Let us stop on that subject,” replied he impatiently, 
“ one does not discuss one’s sensations ; each has, thank 
heaven ! his own kind of charm and his own special merit — 
Clotilde was beautiful when one looked at her, and you, 
Jeanne, are beautiful when one listens to you ! ” 

The next morning the vessel entered the port of Saint 
Thomas under full steam. 


CHAPTER II. 

The passengers on the “ Christopher Colombus ” changed 
vessels at Saint Thomas. Some of them took the Panama 
line,' others that for Demerara, while the rest, among them 
the duke and Clotilde, took the steamer for Havana and 
New Orleans. The name of the latter vessel was the 
“ Cactus,” a ship which went by both steam and sails. It was 


FLEURETTE . 


305 


to leave the next clay and would reach Havana in three 
days. So that Clotilde and Fernand had just that much 
longer to be together. 

Clotilde had taken leave of the captain of the “ Christo- 
pher Columbus ” who had been exceedingly kind to her. 
There was another of the officers of whom we have said lit- 
tle : the young mate, Urbain Remy, who, during the whole 
voyage had never ceased to look after Clotilde’s welfare. In 
obedience to Fleurette’s directions he had never lost sight 
of her, and tried to anticipate whatever orders she might 
have to give. Simply at the name of Fleurette the duke 
had seen Urbain tremble and blush. He was frequently 
pensive and often turned his eyes towards France. 

“Of whom are you thinking, monsieur Urbain?” the 
duke had one day smilingly asked him. 

“ Of my mother, monsieur le due,” he replied, blushing. 

“ Of her Only? ” gaily continued the duke. 

Urbain’s embarrassment greatly increased, and the poor 
fellow, without too well knowing what he said, was obliged 
to stammeringly acknowledge thht he thought a great deal 
of mademoiselle Fleurette and his mother — his mother and 
mademoiselle — in a friendly way, be it understood. 

“Of course,” gravely replied the duke; “but still if 
they were both on this vessel, and both in danger of drown- 
ing at the same moment, and you could only save one of 
them, you would be very much embarrassed.” 

“ Not at all,” quickly cried the young man. 

“ And what would you do ? ” 

“I would save my mother, and drown with Fleurette.” 

“ Ah ! ” cried the duke with emotion, “ that is a word 
which has gained you my esteem and on occasion, monsieur 
Urbain, I will remember it, I promise you.” 

Urbain was delighted, and his joy was all the greater 
that he was to return to France the next day; in sixteen 
days more ‘he might be back there. Clotilde confided to 
him the journal of her voyage which she had written for 
Fleurette. It spoke of little else than Fernand. Fernand 
handed Urbain his letters for Fleurette. They spoke only 
of mademoiselle Jeanne d’Auray. 

The American vessel on which our two travellers now 
found themselves was neither so comfortable, so well con- 

20 


306 


FLEURETTE. 


ducted, nor even so solidly constructed as the French 
steamer. The temerity and imprudence of Americans are 
well known ; who goes fast goes well is their principle ; 
and if, by chance, a ship founders en route it is simply a de- 
tail. Besides a three days passage is soon over, and there- 
fore what is the use in taking a lot of precautions most of 
which are useless. The “ Washington,” a rival packet, had 
taken only three days to go from Saint Thomas to Cuba, 
and therefore the “ Cactus” must by all means make the 
passage in two days and a half. So that the vessel went 
under a full head of steam, and the land had for some time 
been lost to view. They were in the open sea. 

On the very first day some accident had happened to the 
machinery, one which could have very easily been repaired 
but it would have necessitated a stoppage and the Captain 
had sworn to enter Havana by noon of the next day. So 
they continued at full speed and when the night fell, the 
passengers tranquilly retired to their staterooms, without 
having the slightest suspicion of any danger. Early in the 
night the breeze freshened and little by little became a 
violent hurricane. The ship was greatly tried, and to- 
wards two o’clock in the morning the passengers were awak- 
ened by a terrible shaking. The greatest damage had hap- 
pened to the machinery, and to repair it the engineers de- 
manded five hours. 

“No, no,” cried the captain, “we will give up steam 
and go under sail.” 

They obeyed and unfurled the sails, at the risk of being 
foundered by the tempest, which was then raging in all its 
fury. The usual tranquility of the West Indian Sea is oc- 
casionally disturbed by terrible hurricanes ; the present one 
was frightful and the wind directly against them. It was 
therefore necessary to make many tacks and try to advance 
by taking short stretches in the same direction as the wind. 
An hour later, towards three o’clock, the darkness was pro- 
found. They heard above the wind the noise of the sea 
breaking on reefs. This noise became more and more distinct 
and terrifying. Already, doubtless, they had been carried 
considerably out of their course, but the darkness prevented 
them making any observations or knowing the exact posi- 
tion of the ship. 


FLEURETTE. 


307 


By day break 11 on the ship saw the extent of their peril. 
The vessel had entered a bay closed in by breakers whose 
menacing points were plainly visible. These rocks were 
terrible and their own loss was almost inevitable, nothing 
could save the packet; for they could no longer use steam, 
nor escape the danger towards which the wind and tide 
were impelling them. They then resolved to repair the ma- 
chinery as well as they could. It was now their only hope of 
manoeuvring against the wind and current, their only hope 
of safety. Gold, wine and promises were lavished upon 
the sailors, who went to work with ardor ; but it would re- 
quire more than five hours to make the necessary repairs 
and it was easy to calculate that in two hours at the latest 
the ship would be on the rocks or would break to pieces 
and sink. At first the danger had only been understood by 
the Captain and his first officer. Then the sailors com- 
menced to have premonitions, and one of them cried out 
that all human effort was henceforth useless and therefore 
he refused to obey any longer. The Captain, who com- 
manded his vessel in true American style, revolver in hand, 
made no other reply than to coolly blow out the sailor’s 
brains, and then he forced another to take his place. Order 
was restored and a quarter of an hour later discipline was 
maintained as usual but the terror had spread among the 
passengers. Among the women especially there were cries, 
tears and despair; and'Clotilde alone remained mistress of 
herself and tried to calm the others and re-assure madame 
Brevanne, who had lost her head. 

“ Your tears and cries,” said Clotilde coolly, “ will not 
save you, and they will prevent our being saved, for they 
disturb the sailors and impede the working of the ship. 
Do no weep, but pray. Pray to God who alone is able 
to protect us.” 

As she finished these words the duke appeared on deck. 
Silence had succeeded the sobbing, the women all knelt in 
prayer, and Clotilde, calm and resigned, her eyes directed 
towards heaven, implored God not so much for herself as 
for him whom she loved. The duke saw her, and at that 
moment thought her beautiful. At a glance she had meas- 
ured their danger, *and was the only one who looked it 
fearlessly in the face. The few days she had passed in the 


308 


FLEURETTE. 


duke’s company had increased her love, but had destroyed 
her hopes ; she understood that she might aspire to his 
friendship, but never to his love. This love was a vanished 
dream, a past happiness, which she could no longer hope to re- " 
ceive. Fernand, seduced by his cousin’s beauty, would for- 
get madamoiselle Jeanne d’Auray' quicker yet than he had 
forgotten Clotilde de Keroualle. So that upon seeing death 
so near she was resigned ; her resolution was taken ; she 
would silently await the final moment and then she intend- 
ed to throw herself into Fernand’s arms, and say to him : 

“ I am Clotilde your fiancee! ” and thus die with him. 

At the first alarm of danger the duke had run to the 
Captain offering his services and putting himself at the ; 
other’s orders. The Captain had energetically grasped his 
hand, as a sign of thanks, and had coolly replied : “ use- 
less ! ” In a few words he had explained that their safety 
depended entirely on repairing an iron wheel ; a special : 
work for which unfortunately the duke was unfit. Fer- 
nand thought only of Jeanne. He hastened to givq her his 
care and assistance, for he expected to find her half dead 
from fright, but, in place of that, he found her, calm and 
tranquil, reanimating her companions’ courage. While he 
was wondering at her sang -froid ; she replied to his 
thought : 

“ Resignation in danger is the duty of women, and our 
only courage is in knowing how to die. But we shall not 
die,” said she in an assured tone, and coolly proceeded to ; 
reason upon their remaining chances of safety. 

Meanwhile the tempest raged and the wind dragged the 
vessel on. And every time the lightning pierced the dark- 
ness they could see in the distance the reefs, on which a 
horrible, terrible death awaited them. 

“ God will save us,” cried Clotilde. “ He who has let 
loose this terrible storm can stop it at his will ! ” 

“ And yet for fifteen hours,” said the duke, smiling bit- 
terly, “the wind has constantly pushed us towards this 
fatal place.” 

“ One reason more,” replied Clotilde, “ that at any 
moment it may suddenly change its direction.” 

Every one received with rapidity the words which came 
from her lips and, without entirely believing them, blessed 


ELEURETTE. $09 

the consoling angel who in the midst of such a tempest 
still gave them hope. 

“ Yes,” said she with a conviction which she almost 
made them share, “ in a short while the wind will suddenly 
change, by that time the workmen, will have finished their 
task, the ship will be manageable, and we shall rapidly get 
out of danger.-” 

“ Do you believe it ? do you believe it ? ” asked at the 
same time twenty already re-assured voices. 

At that moment a passenger, pale and trembling appear- 
ed at the top of the stairs which led from the engine-room. 

“ They have mutinied ! ” he cried. 

“ Who ? ” demanded all, at once. 

“ The men. They refuse any longer to work as they 
say all is lost ! ” 

A cry of terror ran along the deck. 

“They have taken j^ossession of the store-room, have 
broken open barrels of rum and brandy, and are getting 
drunk so as not to fear death when it arrives.” 

Clotilde now essayed in vain to re-animate the courage 
of her companions in misfortune, despair had taken posses- 
sion of all. Cries and sobs resounded on all sides, the wo- 
men threw themselves on their knees crying for help and 
wringing their hands. There was no priest on board. The 
company owning the vessel found that for a three days pass- 
age that would be a luxury easily dispensed with, and then 
too, a priest would have taken up the place of a paying 
passenger. So that this supreme and last consolation, reli- 
gion, was refused to these unhappy people who were dying 
of terror and saw themselves lost both in this world and 
the next. One young mother, doubtless terrified by the 
orgies she had seen below, at that moment came on deck 
desperate, beside herself and holding clasped to her breast 
a child three or four years old. The mother could proceed 
no further, her knees gave way, she fainted and was about 
letting her child fall when Clotilde caught it in her arms. 
The child commenced to jfiay with her ringlets and said 
gaily : 

“ They say down stairs that we are going to be drowned.” 
Then he added smilingly : “ What does drowned mean, 

madame ? ” 


310 


FLEURETTE. 


“ It means,” responded Clotilde, embracing him, “ that 
God and the angels are waiting for you in Paradise. Sleep, 
my child, sleep ! Your waking will be glorious.” And she 
commenced a lullaby, while Fernand, leaning against the 
taffrail, silently admired her. The child quietly went to 
sleep ; his breath was sweet, his cheeks fresh and rosy, and 
he had a smile on his lips. Clotilde handed him back to his 
mother, who had by this time recovered her senses, and w T as 
sobbing violently, and said to her : 

“ Keep still, and do not wake him up.” 

The mother stiffled her sobs and silently embraced her 
child. But what scenes of desolation, discouragement and 
cowardice were around her ! Even the men, almost as ter- 
rified as the women, were for the most part in such a state 
of prostration that they no longer had strength to stand 
up. 

As to Fernand, the feeling he experienced was very dif- 
ferent ; it was a sort of dull anger, a concentrated rage, 
which had taken possession of him. This peril, against 
which he could do nothing, rendered him furious. If he 
had had bayonets before him, or an enemy’s battery ; if he 
had been obliged to yield his life while fighting for it, de- 
fending it, he would not have cared, he would have been 
happy at a death thus gloriously bought. But to die among 
weeping women, on the deck of a wrecked ship, to be swept 
away by a squall against which his energy was powerless, 
and his courage useless, to find death at the bottom of the 
sea, exasperated him. 

Clotilde, whose glances had not left him for an instant, 
probably divined what was passing in his soul, for she ap- 
proached him and said in a sweet voice : 

“ I can conceive that this is a cruel moment for you, who 
have had all that embellishes life, and that makes it desira- 
ble. To see death thus arrive without turning pale requires 
courage, Fernand, and of all I see around me you are the 
bravest.” 

“ After you, Jeanne.” And regarding her with respect, 
he continued: “You find words of consolation for all; 
you are only uneasy for others, and it seems that for you 
there is no such thing as danger.” 


FLEURETTE. 


311 


not think of either regretting or defending it. One does 
not lie at a moment like this, and God is a witness that if 
He would accept my life in place of yours I would be ready 
to instantly offer it to Him.” 

There was such an accent of truth in her voice that Fer- 
nand, forgetting the tempest, the unbridled winds, and the 
furious waves which broke over the deck, seized her hand 
and cried : 

“ You would die for me, mademoiselle ! And why?” 

Clotilde was about to avow everything; but she first 
threw a glance around her ; the reefs were too far off, the 
danger was not enough yet. She stopped herself, and coldly 
replied : 

“ Because my life can serve no one, while yours may be 
of use to others. Rich and generous, how many of the un- 
fortunate you would be able to succor! Full of youth, 
ardor and noble sentiments, how many great things you 
eould undertake ! ” 

“Ah ! ” cried he in a rage, “ I only aspire to one thing 
just now, to tear you from danger, to save you from the 
waves, to carry you safely to the shore, and then to die ! 
This is what I ask of heaven ; but heaven is deaf and un- 
just, it confounds the innocent with the guilty, and it lets 
you, who are virtue personified, perish without pity like me, 
who have always offended it, like me who brave and curse 
it!” 

Olotilde was frightened at the sort of delirium in which 
she now saw him, but she did not lose courage. She was 
no longer the sweetheart only, she was also the pious and 
Christian woman whose duty it was to try and save all who 
were dear to her. Love and religion gave her a heretofore 
unknown and irresistible eloquence, and persuasion flowed 
from her lips ; the blasphemer, no longer had strength to 
outrage God. At this angel’s voice he felt his wrath melt 
away, his heart soften, and faith succeed impiety. It wa3 
as a Christian to her friend and brother that Clotilde spoke, 
and these words friend and brother had an inexpressible 
sweetness in her mouth. She showed him a merciful God 
who was waiting to pardon and receive them into Hia 
bosom. 

“ What throws you into this unreasoning and culpable 


312 


FLEURETTE. 


condition,” said she, “ is that you do not believe ; but God, 
who strengthens, will also render you courageous by making 
my belief enter your soul ; He will give you hope in giving 
you faith. You just now spoke of dying to save me ; I will 
try and save you while dying with you ! ” 

Fernand gave a great cry and fell on his knees and Clo- 
tilde, her face radiant with a holy joy, resting one hand on 
Fernand’s head and raising the other towards heaven, cried 
aloud in the tempest : 

“You hear, my God, he returns to you! He prays! 
Let his voice join itself to mine and raise itself to You ! ” 
And then she went on fervently praying. At length holding 
out her hand and pointing to the furious waves which sur- 
rounded them, she calmly said to Fernand : 

“ You have heard your sister’s voice ; the* friendship 
which unites us shall never again be broken, we shall never 
more be separated ! ” 

Fernand answered by pressing her to his bosom. Clo- 
tilde asked for nothing more, and was now ready to die. 

All at once terrible cries arose from below. They heard 
a crackling noise proceeding from the hold of the ship, and 
some bright gleams shone through the badly joined planks 
of the deck. The ship was on fire. 

The men were completely intoxicated ; not dariug to 
look death in the face they had sought from rum and brandy 
the courage they lacked. Many of the sailors had wished 
to follow their example and one of them, already half drunk, 
had placed a lamp near an open barrel of rum which had 
quickly caught fire. In trying to extinguish it he had upset 
the barrel and the burning liquid had run over the planks 
of the deck which was soon in flames. Thus the unfortu- 
nate ship, already at the mercy of the waves, was soon a 
prey also to fire. The tempest and conflagration seemed to 
have united together for its destruction. 

On hearing the cry “ Fire ! fire! ” Fernand tore himself 
from Clotilde’s arms. In the presence of this new disaster 
his energy was re-awakened. At last a danger presented 
itself that he could combat, an enemy which activity and 
courage could vanquish. Addressing himself to the male 
passengers on deck, who, were passively awaiting death, he 
shook them violently, and shouted in their ears : 


FLEURETTE. 


313 

“ Will you let these women and children burn without 
trying to save then ? ” 

Many did not comprehend him or could not answer him. 
He forcibly continued : 

“Will you do nothing to save yourselves from the fright- 
ful torture of the flames ? 

At these words some raised their heads, came out of 
their torpor and tried to rouse themselves, w r hen a violent 
shock made them stagger and fall back on the deck. The 
ship, as if enveloped in a water-spout, had whirled around, 
taken a leap on the waves and stopped short. It was what 
is called at sea a sudden shifting of the wind. The latter 
had all at once changed and forced the vessel to take an- 
other direction from the one it had been pursuing, but not 
without causing great damage to the sails and masts and 
horrible disorder in the interior of the vessel. They thought 
it was going to sink as for an instant it had turned over on 
one side ; but it suddenly righted, and before a strong but 
favorable wind it rapidly rushed in a direction exactly op- 
posite to that which it had previously followed, carrying 
within it a fire which was constantly increasing in intensity. 
The cries of the men in the hold who were already being 
devoured by fire appalled the passengers, and the flames 
were soon seen bursting through the hatch-ways. 

“ Arise ! arise ! ” cried Fernand to the passengers, “ your 
safety is in your own hands ! ” 

“ Do you not see the reefs receding,” cried Clotilde : 
“ God has preserved us from drowning, do you save us from 
burning! ” 

u To the pumps ! ” cried the captain and officers to the 
sailors still remaining faithful to their duties. 

Fernand hastened to their assistance followed by a party 
of passengers whom he had finally made understand the 
situation and who consented to assist to save themselves. 
He had divided them into two squads who relieved each 
other in turns at the pumps but he himself took neither rest 
nor relaxation. Thanks to the pumps, which were in gdod 
condition, they were successful in combatting the progress 
of the fire, but not in mastering it, and for a long time it 
resisted all their efforts. Finally they believed they had 
extinguished it. The workers were overwhelmed with 


314 


FLEURETTE. 


fatigue and gave themselves up to rest. Fernand and the 
captain had at length decided to take a few moments repose, 
which they both much needed, when the cries of “ fire ! ” 
again resounded and started the crew up out of their sleep. 
The fire had reappeared in another part of the vessel, and 
for five hours more demanded constant surveillance. At 
the least spark, wet hammocks, blankets, and the sand used 
for ballast, were put in requisition to prevent and put out 
the fire, which was ever ready to burst forth. 

“ Aid yourself, and heaven will aid you,” is an old say- 
ing, and heaven had evidently at last taken pity on those 
who had shown so much perseverance and courage, for Fer- 
nand was finally able to say to Clotilde.” 

“ You were right, our guardian angel. Saved ! saved ! ” 

“ Thanks to you,” she replied, “ and I shall never for- 
get it.” 

It was night when the “ Cactus ” finally arrived at her des- 
tination. In place of making the passage from Saint 
Thomas to Havana in two and a half days the vessel had 
taken six. 

A magnificent steam-ship, the “ Orinoco,” had steam up 
and was all ready to sail for New Orleans, and Clotilde and 
the other passengers who did not wish to continue their jour- 
ueyon the unlucky “ Cactus,” on which they had already run 
so many risks, were transferred to the other vessel. In vain 
the duke, who hated to part with Clotilde, wished to detain 
her at Havana and present her to his relatives. For reasons 
easily understood she would not consent. Her brother, 
notified by her of her departure from Havre, had been for 
some days expecting her arrival at New Orleans and the de- 
lay of the “ Cactus ” must have already caused him serious 
alarm. This there was nothing to answer. 

Fernand took Clotilde’s hand, and in an affecting and 
solemn voice he said : 

“ After what has passed, Jeanne, we can no longer 1 
hope, be strangers to each other. In the face of death you 
were a sister to me, and all my life I will be a brother to 
you and claim the title and rights of such. A brother does 
not forget his sister, he is her friend and writes to her; per- 
mit me to love you and to write to you.” 

In his words, which came from his heart, there was a 


FLEURETTE. 


815 


calmness, a loyalty and a frankness of expression which at 
once both pleased and pained Clotilde. She would perhaps 
have preferred a little hesitation and emotion. Musing, she 
kept silent ; while Fernand tenderly pressed her hand, which 
he had kept in his own, and said to her, as a friend to a 
friend : 

“Will you promise to answer my letter? ” 

“ Yes,” said she slowly. 

Although overcome with fatigue Fernand personally at- 
tended to the transfer of Clotilde’s effects to the “ Orinoco,” 
then accompanied her and her maid to the new vessel, and 
did not leave them till the last moment before the de- 
parture, which took place in the night. 


CHAPTER III. 

It was two o’clock in the morning. The duke d’Olona, 
could not at that hour go to his uncle’s house, which was a 
large and superb mansion situated two leagues from the 
city. He asked one of the public servants at the dock which 
was the best hotel in the city. 

“ I will conduct you, my lord,” the man had replied, 
“ to the Antilles Hotel, where all the noblemen and princes 
stop.” 

“ Go ahead,” said the duke following him. 

Most of the streets were plunged in darkness, but at last 
they arrived in a large square where the duke perceived a 
palace brilliantly illuminated. Domestics in livery stood in 
the square and in the courtyard of the palace. Violins, 
horns and castanets sent forth joyous sounds. 

“What is all this?” demanded Fernand. 

“A great ball, my lord, which the Captain-General gives, 
and to which are invited not only the nobility of the city 
but also those of the surrounding country ; as your lord- 
ship may see from the immense crowd and the magnificence 
displayed. If your lordship will approach you will perhaps 


316 


FLEURETTE. 


be able to see some of the superb toilets through the win- 
dows.” 

Fernand had no desire to see ball dresses : he wished 
only for one thing, to find a bed where he could go to sleep. 
He soon arrived at the Antilles Hotel.; and the host, al- 
though all his apartments, he said, were retained could offer 
him one, his handsomest ; it was probably thus that he 
designated every room in his house. The “handsomest,” 
was ugly enough, however, and small, and only separated 
from its neighbors by thin wooden partitions. But one 
night is soon passed, particularly when it is already more 
than half over, and Fernand hastened to take possession of 
his couch. 

In spite of his want of rest he was so agitated that it was 
some time before he could get to sleep. He still heard the 
noise of furious waves, and saw the flames crawling along the 
interior of the ship. He saw plainer than everything else the 
figure of Jeanne towering over all amidst the tempest ; 
Jeanne his sister, his good angel, this superior, incompar- 
able woman, or rather whom he dared not compare with 
anyone ; and either through her memory or that of the ter- 
rible events through which he had just passed it seemed to 
him that his thoughts had taken a grave and serious turn 
that up to then they had been unaccustomed to. 

His eyes had finally closed, and for some moments he 
had enjoyed the sweets of a first sleep, a deep and restoring 
sleep, when he was suddenly awakened by joyous cries and 
shouts of laughter coming from the neighboring chamber. 
He could easily understand that these wbre uttered by 
young country girls, who, coming from the ball with their 
families and not being able to return to their homes at such 
a late hour, would not leave the city until morning. While 
undressing they conversed of the invitations they had re- 
ceived and the quadrilles and waltzes they had danced. 

“ Ah ! ” murmured the duke, “ they have been dancing 
so much the better ! they are probably tired and will want 
to go to sleep.” 

But they continued their conversation. In vain the 
duke buried his head in his pillow and covered his ears, 
their incessant chatter made sleep impossible for him. In- 
discreet in spite of himself ? he was obliged to overhear 


FLEURETTE. 


351 ? 


them while he swore at them. It would have been an en- 
durable situation if this conversation, while depriving him 
of his rest, had offered him any entertainment. But it was 
. only about the toilets of all the young ladies at the ball, 
which they described critically and at length, and then 
about the gentlemen and their different styles of dancing. 
Fernand hoped, these two subjects finished, that the young 
girls would at last become still and let him sleep. Vain 
hope! The qnestion of waltzing then came up, whether it 
should be trois temps or deux temps , and there ensued an 
ardent and animated discussion which appeared as if it 
■would prolong itself indefinitely, until Fernand impatient 
and almost beside himself muttered between his teeth : 

“What stupidity! What nonsense! What silly stuff! 
If these are specimens, of what use are the women here ? 
What do they do at home ? ” 

At last being unable to stand it any longer, and as if 
seized with an attack of fever, he jumped from his bed and, 
forgetting his habitual gallantry and gentlemanly manners, 
rapped rudely against the wooden partition and cried in the 
voice of a stentor : % 

“ Silence, chatterboxes, and go to sleep ! ” 

At this unexpected command the young girls uttered 
cries of surprise and fright. Mortified at this brusque apos- 
trophe, and above all distressed at having been overheard, 
they kept still and finally went to sleep. 

A lpng time had elapsed since Fernand had played this 
rude part. It was midday when he awoke and his fatigue 
had disappeared and his strength was completely restored. 
Ilis young neighbors and their families had left the hotel. 
He enjoyed an excellent breakfast, dressed himself, ordered 
a carriage and had himself and his luggage conducted to his 
uncles. 

The latter’s mansion, as we have said, was situated about 
two leagues from the city. It was a large and old chateau 
built in the Spanish style and surrounded by an English 
park : immense plantations, and numerous buildings for em- 
ployes, extended in every direction. A thousand slaves, 
divided into brigades, worked there under the orders of a 
large staff of officers and assistants. 

The comte de Castle Mayor received his nephew with 


818 


FLEUR ETTE. 


great honor in the courtyard at the foot of the stairs of the 
main entrance. He then introduced him into the grand 
salon and presented him to Guiseppa, his cousin, who was 
surrounded by young companions who formed a sort of 
court around her. M. de Castle-Mayor had not exaggerated 
his daughter’s beauty : she merited her name of “ the God- 
dess of the Antilles,” which the young gentlemen of the sur- 
rounding country had given her. Fernand did not conceal 
his admiration, hut frankly expressed it to his uncle, who 
smilingly rubbed his hands, and whispered : 

“ Tell me what you think of her to-morrow for to-day is 
not one of her brilliant days : she hasn’t her usual beautiful 
color, she is so fatigued, having spent last night at the 
ball.” 

“ Indeed, my pretty cousin ? ” said Fernand with emo- 
tion. 

“Oh ! the ball would have been nothing, cousin, but we 
were not allowed to sleep afterwards, were we Isabella?” 
said Giuseppa addressing one of her companions. 

“ I should say not,” answered the latter, “ we had such a 
strang neighbor, such an oyginal gentleman. — ” 

At the first words pronounced by Giuseppa the duke 
had shuddered M. de Castle-Mayor believed it was from 
pleasure. Fernand’s emotion was however produced by a 
very different feeling. He still had some doubts which the 
voice of her companion, Signora Isabella, succeeded in re- 
moving. These two voices, let them be taken together or 
separately, were but too well known to him; they had 
caused him such a disagreeable and prolonged sensation the 
night before that the sound of them still lingered in his ears 
and made him nervous. Giuseppa then commenced relat- 
ing, amid the applause of the company, their adventure of 
the preceding night, and mimicked the coarse voice of the 
supposed sailor, unused to society and badly brought up, 
who had imposed silence upon them and had called them 
“ chatterboxes.” 

Fernand pretended to be still more indignant than her- 
self at the proceeding, yet he laughed heartily at the 
anecdote, which he found charming. 

“ Is it not true ? ” said M. de CasteLMayor to his 
nephew, pointing to his daughter, “ what I told you in 


FLEURETTE. 


819 


Paris ? She is gay ; she is spirituelle ; and then she has 
received such a complete and distinguished education ! I 
have given her all kinds of masters, and she can converse 
on any subject. Try her.” 

Fernand conversed with his cousin part of the evening 
and at each answer looked around with sadness and regret. 
Among all these people something was wanting and he ex- 
perienced a terrible void. Jeanne was no longer with him ! 

Despite the fatigues of yesterday Giuseppa and her 
friends wished to waltz to the music of the piano. Fernand 
asked his cousin to be his partner to the delight of his uncle. 

“ Do you waltz a deux temps , cousin ? ” asked Giuseppa. 

“ Certainly, my dear cousin,” replied Fernand. 

“How nice! You are right. Can you believe that 
Isabella, my best friend, professes a deplorable system, that 
of the trois temps ? ” 

“ It is absurd.” 

“ Is it not ? For in short, as little as one may think 
it—” 

And she recommenced the discussion of last night, a 
second edition of which she gave her cousin. This time it 
mattered little to Fernand, who was as willing she should 
talk on that subject as on any other ; he was not listening. 

On the next and following days he wrote to Jeanne, and 
related in detail, first; his arrival at Havana ; next ; at his 
uncle’s ; and, later on, the life of the family in which he was 
living. 

He made long excursions into the country, went over 
his large plantations (which he had hitherto only known 
from hearsay), and visited his numerous slaves, some of 
whom he owned in partnership with his uncle. He passed 
entire days among them studying ways of ameliorating their 
condition, and, above all, that of the women and children. 
As to fears of invasion by the Americans, concerning which 
he had conversed with Jeanne on board the “Christopher 
Columbus,” the island was just then in a state of profound 
security ; so there was nothing for him to do but to occupy 
himself with his duties of planter and colonist, which were 
not without interest. 

More than once he had asked Giuseppa questions con- 
cerning the society and customs of Havana, or simply con 


320 


FLEURETTE. 


cerning her own occupations in the interior of her father’s 
house and how she managed it. But he had always instantly 
seen languor and ennui depicted on her features, as, with 
the indolence of a creole, she repeated : 

“ I know nothing about it ; I do not mix myself up in 
such things.” 

On the other hand she occupied herself very much with 
her toilet, and would question her cousin in regard to the 
fashions and materials of France ; she would particularly 
inquire what were the latest styles of ladies mantles and 
bonnets in vogue in Paris. On this subject she could ob- 
tain little or no information from Fernand, and was con- 
stantly astonished at her cousin’s ignorance. To tell the 
truth, each had little respect for the education or know- 
ledge of the other. 

At length, one day when Fernand, having heard crinoline 
discussed for more than half an hour, had quitted the salon 
in order to take a breath of fresh air, a letter was handed 
to him. It was postmarked New Orleans and was from 
Jeanne d’Auray. 

She had made a good voyage and had been received 
with open arms by her brother, who already could not do 
without her. He was ill, and she was already established 
as his nurse. His house had formerly been given over to 
pillage* but she had now become major-domo and intendante. 
Order reigned and health and happiness commenced to re- 
appear. She passed rapidly over these household affairs, 
in fubt scarcely spoke of them, but she dwelt at length on 
other details she believed might interest Fernand ; on the 
aspect which New Orleans and Louisiana presented to her, 
those regions which formerly belonged to France and where 
the decendants of old French families are still to be found ; 
a French country in heart, language and memories, and 
which for Clotilde, was not a land of exile, but a father- 
land regained at fifteen hundred leagues from France. 

In this letter and those succeeding it. Clotilde constantly 
revealed new qualities to Fernand. In conversing with a 
friend, even the most intimate, a woman never confides 
more than half of soul; but in writing to him she discloses 
it entirely, and it was only now that Fernand knew the 
value of the treasures which up then he had only suspected. 


FLEUR ETTE. 


321 


What nobility in her sentiments ! what purity in her ideas ! 
what a charm in her wit! and, better still, what kindness 
in her heart ! She was never occupied with herself, but 
always with her friends ; what concerned her was nothing, 
what interested Fernand was alone of importance in her 
eyes. There was so much devotion about her for those 
whom she loved that it seemed as if a friendship so tender 
ought to supercede everything ; and that nothing in the 
world could console one for its loss. Just now Fernand 
did not bother himself much in regard to exterior charms. 
On the contrary ; since he was condemned, night and 
morning, to observe the beauty and listen to the conversa- 
tion of his cousin and her young companions he had per- 
suaded himself by an exaggeration sufficiently common to 
passionate people, that beauty and silliness were inseparable, 
and one day he wrote to Fleurette that henceforth he had 
taken a hatred for all pretty women, except herself. 

For nearly three months each vessel departing for 
Louisiana carried a letter from him, and every packet from 
New Orleans brought him one. But to his last letter he 
had received no answer. Nothing had come for him. His 
uneasiness and disappointment made him comprehend, 
without acknowledging it to himself how dear Jeanne 
d’Auray was to him, and how difficult it already was for 
him to live away from her. He must wait five days before 
the arrival of another packet. The first three he endeavored 
to conceal his trouble and anxiety ; but commencing from 
the fourth, this was impossible. Two or three times a day 
he would mount his horse and gallop to the harbor to see 
if there was not some vessel coming from the gulf of Mexico. 
He would return sad at heart, and it was in those moments 
more than any other that the toilets and polkas of his cousin 
appear intolerable to him. . 

Finally on the sixth day the letter so greatly desired 
arrived. It contained only a few lines, written in an appar- 
ently trembling hand ; and to a very attentive eye, it would 
not have been impossible to discover traces of tears upon 
the following words : 

“I have been ill, my friend; but do not be uneasy. 
Thanks to my brother’s care it will amount to nothing. 

“ An idea which I am unable to banish has remained 

21 


822 


FLEURETTE. 


fixed in my mind, one which frightens me and which I 
would like to withhold but which I ought, in spite of my 
inclinations, to make you acquainted with. 

The Spain of the Cid has revolted, they say, and has 
uttered the war-cry. It has been said in my presence 
that there is glory to be gained in in Morocco. 

I thought of you l 

Your father, I am sure, would have done what I do. 
It may be that I shall all my life deplore this fatal advice. 
I may die of it ; but, as your friend, I should never pardon 
myself had I not given it to you.” 

Fernand uttered a cry and pressed the letter to his lips. 

“ Yes,” he cried with an accent full of courage and pride, 

4 there spoke my friend, my true friend” 

That same evening he appeared in his uncle’s salon in 
travelling dress and made his adieux. M. de Castel Mayor 
vainly tried to detain him. 

“My cousin is charming,” said Fernand, “but it has 
been easy for me to see that I am not pleasing to her ; our 
tastes do not agree, and there are a great many young cava- 
liers here, pretty dancers, who will suit her better than I 
could hope to.” 

“ At least remain among us,” answered his uncle ; 
“ among your possessions, which thanks to yourself have in 
three months doubled in value ; among your slaves, who 
are well and whom you have made love you. Remain, 
and teach me how to do the same.” 

“No, uncle, I am about to join the Spanish army in 
Morocco.” 

“ For what good ? ” 

“ I will ask General Prim, whom I knew at Madrid, if 
he will take me under him as a volunteer.” 

“ For what good ? ” impatiently repeated the uncle. 

“To fight, I do not wish to remain a planter at Havana, 
when all the other young gentlemen of my age are soldiers 
in Africa.” 

“ Who has said that to you? ” 

“ A friend, who knows when to give good advice, and 1 
shall follow his.” 

“ A friend who probably hasn’t a maravedi / But you, 
who have such a fine property, gold mines, and immense 


FLEURETTE . 


323 

revenues ; exposing all this to be carried off by a cannon 
. ball ! ” 

“All the more merit in doing it. Adieu, Uncle.” And 
he embraced M. de Castel Mayor and his charming daughter 
and then took his leave. 

A few weeks later this elegant young man, the favorite 
of all the ladies, who until then had passed his life amid 
luxury, bravely commenced that long and rough campaign in 
which the enemy’s yataghans and bullets were far less 
formidable than the cold, hunger, fatigue, sickness and 
privations of every description. 


CHAPTER IV, AND LAST. 

Let us return to Fleurette, whom we have not seen for 
some time but whose position when we left her had nothing 
disquieting about it. The departure of the duke d’Olona 
had increased and emboldened her adorers. 

Ludovic Durussel had lost his mother, and during the 
first two months of his mourning he had not appeared at 
Fleurette’s. He was making up for it now, however, for 
he came every day to get fresh flowers for his mansion to 
the great chargin of Urbain Remy, a modest purchaser, who, 
faithful to his" violets, also purchased a bouquet every day. 
He had obtained permission from his chiefs to spend all 
the time his services were not needed on board his vessel, 
at Paris with his mother. 

Ludovic’s presence frightened the others, Urbain to 
commence with, who continued to preserve an absolute 
silence. They knew of M. DurussePs marriage projects, 
and since his mother was dead nothing now prevented him 
from carrying them out. For the rest the gentle flower-girl, 
gracious with all was tender to none; her only friends 
were both far away from her. 

Urbain, on his first voyage, had brought her the journals 
of Clotilde and the Duke. This commencement of their 


324 


FLEURETTE. 


acquaintance had given Fleurette great hopes, which were 
confirmed by other letters she had since received. The 
account of the tempest had at first frightened, then enchanted 
her ; the sojourn at Havana and cousin Giuseppa had de- 
lighted her ; but the departure for Morocco had grieved her. 
For the first time in her life she blamed her god-mother, 
and accused her of indifference and hardness : she trembled 
for poor Fernand, and when people came into her shop, 
night or morning, they always found her reading the news- 
papers. 

The landing of the Spanish fleet and the storms with 
which it had been assailed prevented Fleurette from sleeping. 
At the first victory gained over the Moors she was with 
difficulty prevented from illuminating her shop. But now 
her joy was still greater. 

It was said that General Prim and his aides-de-camp 
had distinguished themselves. In carrying a redoubt the 
duke d’Olona had been wouuded, but his wound was not 
dangerous : peace had been made and the duke could not be 
long in returning to Paris. 

Another happiness : Clotilde had already many times 
spoken of her excellent brother’s desire to return to France 
before his death, in order to admire Paris, the new city 
which was the marvel of the world. 

Jean d’Auray was finally able to realize this wish. The 
presence and care of his dearly beloved sister had restored 
him to health, gaiety and almost youth ; he at first walked 
leaning on Clotilde ’s arm, but could soon do so without any 
assistance. He felt able to make the voyage and his physi- 
cian had given his consent to it, wherein he had shown his 
sense for his patient was a man capable of going without 
permission. So one can imagine Fleurette’s joy and aston- 
ishment when a letter dated Havre and signed Clotilde ap- 
prized her of the arrival of Jeanne d’Auray and her brother 
and begged her to at once engage them an apartment in 
Paris. 

One hour later this commission had been executed. 
Fleurette had a magnificent apartment at the Hotel du 
Louvre , where three days later she embraced her god- 
mother whom she overwhelmed with caresses and questions 
without forgetting M. Jean, who was conquered by Fleu. 


FLEURETTE. 


325 


rette’s first glance. The old gentleman merchant already 
knew from his sister Fleurette’s history, he regarded her as 
one of the family ; and would have believed something lack- 
ing from his toilet if his button-hole had not every morning 
been ornamented with a bouquet brought by *Fleurette. 
From the first day after his arrival Jean d’Auray occupied 
himself in going over Paris while the two women occupied 
themselves in talking of Fernand. 

“ He loves you, god-in other,” cried Fleurette ; “ he loves 
you now ! ” 

“ Yes, but not with the love,” said Clotilde sadly. 

“With real love, I maintain it.” 

“ No, no ; he will never love me again as he did when I 
was beautiful.” 

“ In the first place, god-mother, you are very beautiful 
now : the red spots are entirely gone, the skin is united and 
smooth, and you have acquired a slight embonpoint which 
is marvellously becoming to you and which has made most 
all of the traces of the scourge disappear; those remaining 
do not amount to more than beauty spots here and there 
which give expression to the face. And besides, the beau- 
tiful Giuseppa has given him a dislike for simple beauty, 
and after what he last wrote to me I can easily see that she 
who calls herself Jeanne d’Auray and no one else is the 
only one he loves.” 

“Ah!” said Clotilde, shaking her head, “if mademoi- 
selle de Keroualle could appear as she formerly was before 
his, eyes Jeanne d’Auray would very soon be forgotten.” 

“ That is a mistake.” 

“ What makes you think so ? ” 

“ I am sure of it.” 

“ Ah ! if you could only make me believe it ! ” 

“Nothing more would be wanting to your happiness, 
god-mother? ” 

“Nothing! ” said Clotilde. 

“ Eh, well ! ” replied Fleurette with a prophetic air, 
“ this conviction I will give you, god-mother.” 

That same evening Fleurette received from the duke a 
letter dated on the frontier of Spain ; it contained only 
these words : 

“In two days I shall be at Bordeaux, where I shall 


326 


FLEURETTE. 


remain a week. If you have any news from New Orleans 
write to me , post&-restante.” 

Fleurette had a plan which she thought ought to suc- 
ceed : she was not a girl to throw away a chance, however 
absurd or rash it might appear. She acted on her inspira- 
tion and, without speaking of it to her god-mother, she 
wrote the duke d’Olona a letter in conformity with her pre- 
sent idea. 

Some days later Clotilde was seated with her brother in 
their parlor at the Hotel du Louvre ; it was evening and 
they were speaking of their mutual happiness, that is to say 
of Clotilde’s, for Jean, restored to life by her devotion, lived 
for her. Clotilde was his sister, his daughter, his whole 
family ; she had confided to him her immost thoughts, in- 
cluding her love for d’01ona ? and he rejoiced in her joy or 
grieved over her sorrow, as he also hoped when she hoped. 
Clotilde had related to him for the tenth time at least the 
details of their marriage, so unfortunately broken off, her 
departure for Nancy to see her aunt Beatrix, her grief, Fer- 
nand’s last adieux , and his mother’s ring which he had 
given her at parting — this ring which she so often put to 
her lips, for now that he was far away she dared to wear it. 

All at once a door opens and a domestic announces M. 
le due d’Olona. A young man rushes into the apartment, 
Clotilde utters a cry and collecting all her strength tries to 
repress her emotion and not lose consciousness, while she 
murmurs these words : 

“ My brother — M. le due d’Olona ! ” 

“ It is scarcely necessary that he should be presented to 
me,” said Jean frankly. “ Although we have never before 
seen each other, monsieur le due, it seems to me as if we 
were already acquainted.” 

Fernand grasped Jean’s hand. He could not speak he 
was so greatly overcome. His appearance was as distin- 
guished as ever, but he was prouder looking and manlier. 
His face was brown and there was visible on his forehead a 
scar, the reminder of a cut from a yataghan, which rather 
improved than disfigured his looks. On perceiving this scar, 
slight as it was, Clotilde could not refrain from tears, and 
Fernand, regarding her with a proud and happy look, cried; 

“ Am I worthy of you, my friend ? ” 


FLEUR ETTE . 


327 


She offered him her hand, which lie seized with an 
ardent expression of tenderness. He loved this time with 
a strong and durable love for he was no longer captivated 
by the vanity of the eyes or delirium of the senses, but 
through gratitude, the heart, the mind and the judgment. 

“Monsieur,” said the duke, turning to Jean d’Auray, 
“ I have just received a strange communication, in regard 
to which however I have already taken my resolution ; but 
I intend making it known to you, monsieur, and to madem- 
oiselle, your sister, as a thing which concerns me and will 
therefore, I am certain, not be indifferent to you, who are 
my friends.” 

Clotilde glanced at her brother with a disturbed air, and 
then all three sat down and Fernand continued in the fol- 
lowing terms : 

“ On arriving at Bordeaux, where I w r as to have re- 
mained a week on personal business, I found a letter from 
Fleurette, directed poste-restcmte , in which she informed 
me that M. Jean d’Auray and his sister had arrived in Paris 
and were at the Hotel du Louvre. 

“I read no further, but gave orders for my departure 
and at once put myself en route . Then only, I finished 
Fleurette’s letter ; tlie end of it is strange, inexplicable and 
difficult of belief. But she who wrote it is an honest girl, 
and her devotion to me is so well known that to doubt her 
Would be criminal, and I should never forgive myself if I 
did so. Here is this letter.” 

He handed it to Clotilde whose astonishment increased 
each instant. She took the letter with a trembling hand. 
It was indeed in Fleurette’s hand-writing, and in a voice of 
emotion she read what follows : 

“ I now come, monsieur le due, to a strange event, the 
details of which I will give you later on, but concerning 
which you must be somewhat informed before you return 
to Paris. 

“ You have not forgotten the horrible catastrophe which 
deprived you of mademoiselle de Keroualle, your intended 
and my well beloved god-mother; nor have you forgotten 
the statement of the railway — employe at Vitry-le-Fram 
cats who assured you that mademoiselle de Keroualle had 


328 


FLEURETTE . 


left the car which was destroyed long before the accident, 
and was probably still living — ” 

Clotilde stopped here, speechless, not knowing what 
Fleurette was aiming at nor what was her design. 

“ Please continue,” said Fernand.” 

“The railway employe told the truth monsieur le due 
mademoiselle de Keronalle, your fiancee , my god-mother, 
still lives : I have seen her, and she is more beautiful than 
ever — ” 

Clotilde only now understood Fleurette’s project. She 
commenced to tremble : but she had the strength to go on : 

“If you ask me, monsieur le due, why she has let such 
a rumor get abroad and why she did not hasten to unde- 
ceive you, you who loved her, in regard to the false report 
of her death, I will answer that in acting thus she was 
more than ever worthy of your esteem and affection ; that 
she had only the most praiseworthy and noble motives : 
I will prove this to you and you will yourself acknow- 
ledge it.” 

“ No ! ” cried the duke, interrupting her, “ whatever may 
be the reasons she gives me I will never forgive such a si- 
lence. I think, mademoiselle, and you will probably be of 
my opinion, that such a proceeding, however they may try 
to justify it, gives me the right to withdraw my word and 
break off the union agreed upon between us.” 

“Would you break with her?” murmured Clotide, her 
heart almost bursting with joy; “with her who they say 
is so beautiful ? ” 

“ She is not so beautiful in my eyes as you are ! ” cried 
Fernand warmly; “for you are the one I love, the one I 
prefer above all ! ” 

And then addressing Jean d’Auray, he said, seizing Clo- 
tilde’s beautiful hand : 

“ Monsieur, I pray you to grant me your sister’s hand, 
without which I can never be happy. And at this moment, 
Jeanne,” addressing his fiancee , “my only regret is that 
I cannot place on one of these charming fingers my revered 
mother’s ring — the ring that she left for me to give after her 
death to her daughter, my wife.” 

On uttering these words he looked at Jeanne’s hand and 
remained stupified on recognizing upon it the engraved ring 


FLEURETTE. 


329 


and the precious stone which a year before he had put on 
the finger of Clotilde de Keroualle. He stood upright and 
speechless, holding Jeanne’s hand in his own, and his eyes 
asked an explanation of this mystery, when suddenly the 
door opened. 

A shout of laughter announced Fleurette, who threw 
herself into her friends arms gaily crying out at the same 
time : 

“ Monsieur le due ! ” — My god-mother ! ” 

“ Your god-mother ! ” repeated Fernand, beside himself, 
“ your god-mother ! ” 

“ Always, monsieur le due, she has always been that.” 

That entire evening was spent in explanations between 
the duke, Clotilde, the count de Keronalle and Fleurette, 
explanations often recommenced and always listened to with 
new surprise and fresh interest. 

Fleurette asked when the marriage would take place. 
The others were thinking of the same thing, but she alone 
dared speak of it. 

Until that day, at a date much too far off to suit her. 
Fleurette occupied herself constantly with her god-mother’s 
trousseau ; she was her waiting-maid and had but one idea ; 
to make her god-mother beautiful. She wished that Clotilde 
should re-enter the world at the earliest possible moment, but 
the latter declined. It was not until the evening proceeding 
her marriage that she appeared en grande toilette in the 
salon of the duke d’Olona, her fiance. The old physician 
at Vitry-le-Francais had told the truth : little by little time 
had effaced the least traces of the scourge. She was no 
longer the Clotilde of former days, but was another who had 
an attraction and beauty of her own. Each day however 
restored, if not her first brilliancy, at least charms which 
more and more recalled her former appearance. So much 
so that Fleurette, regarding her with satisfaction, would 
often say : 

“ It is astonishing, god-mother, how much you resemble 
yourself ! ” 

What more shall we say ? Do we need to continue this 
recital ? True happiness is not told. But if you desire to 
know what has become of those who figured in the com- 
mencement of this history it will be much easier for me ta 
satisfy you. 


330 


FLEURETTE. 


Madame la marquise de Keroualle at last succeeded in 
marrying off her third daughter in Brittany. Comte Jean 
de Keroualle, ex-merchant, has had the honor of informing 
her of the marriage of his sister, Clotilde de Keroualle, with 
M. le due d’Olona. The marquise and her family were 
greatly moved at the resurrection and return of two rela- 
tives in whose loss they had taken so much interest. 

There is also another old acquaintance of ours. William 
of Shaffhousen ,Fleurette’s friend and correspondent, William 
the porter, whom we have somewhat neglected, but whom 
Fleurette did not forget. She frequently wrote to him. She 
very well remembered that the good William had formerly 
asked her in marriage and that she had promised to give 
aim an answer in two years. These had expired and Fleurette 
had not yet come to any decision. It was at the period 
when France and the Helvetian republic were in difficulties 
over Chablais and Fancigny, and Fleurette had found that 
an annexation to Switzerland offered her no less difficulties, 
when one morning she received a letter from William. 

“ I am lost,” said she, “ he is going to summon me to 
ceep my promise ! ” 

The worthy and excellent Swiss had too much sense for 
that. He had comprehended that Fleurette was too brilli- 
ant for him; that she was a hot-house dower, and not one 
belonging to the mountains. So he had espoused a brave 
fellow country woman from the shores of Lake Constance. 
He made this known to Fleurette, gave her back her pro- 
mise and asked to still retain her friendship. Fleurette, 
much moved though more than content, responded in a let- 
ter so devoted and tender that poor William almost regretted 
his marriage : she joined with the letter a superb present 
for his wife. 

As to the other aspirants to Fleurette’s hand, there were 
so many we haven’t space to speak of them all. 

The oldest, the first, Etienne, Michelette’s brother, has 
become neither a better fellow nor a better workman ; ambi- 
tious, without ceasing to be idle, he seeks every way to en- 
rich himself without having to do anything. He has made 
a marriage, not one of reason, nor a rich one, but one of des- 
pair ! he has espoused mademoiselle Charlotte, the former 
pretty flower maker of the rue Neuve-Coguenard who is 


FLEURETTE. 


331 


about, it is said, to take the apartment formerly occupied by 
mademoiselle Delia, in the rue de JVavarin . 

Ludovic Durussel, whose mother’s death has left him the 
master of a very large fortune, no longer conceals his inten- 
tions. Obstacles and refusals have only increased his passion 
love has silenced his vanity, and he now loves Fleurette to 
such an extent that he boldly declares his intention of mar- 
rying her if she will only consent to accept him. 

“ That ought to touch you,” said Clotilde to her. 

“ It does not pain me,” responded the coquette, “ but 
that is no reason for my accepting him. I will see.” 

“ Ah ! ” cried Clotilde, “ if you had eyes you would have 
remarked one who really loves you : Urbain Remy.” 

“ You think so, god-mother ? ” 

“ He says nothing, perhaps he never will,” replied the 
duchess, “ but I have heard of words of his which came from 
the heart.” And she related how Urbain, pushed to his 
last intrenchments and obliged to choose between his mother 
and Fleurette, would have saved the former and died with 
his beloved. 

“ Ah ! ” quickly said Fleurette, “ that is nobly said.” 

“ And does it decide you ? ” 

“No, god-mother,” said she, blushing, “no — I will see — 
1 will reflect — there is enough time — I like the affection of 
friendship, and care for no other, and the more I question 
myself the more it seems to me that there are only tw T o per- 
sons in the world to whom I have really given my heart.” 

“Who are they ? ” 

“ You first, god-mother, as you very well know.” 

“ And the other ? ” 

“The other?” Fleurette threw an almost imperceptible 
glance towards where Fernand was standing, tears shone in 
her eyes, but she laughingly answered her god-mother : “ The 
other 1 will not tell.” 


The End. 



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